#like he's been performing for so long that he can't tell what's real and what's constructed

[florallylly]

steve harrington so used to people's eyes on him, doesn't notice when someone is watching him OR hyper vigilant but also really good at reading people, knows eddie has been sneaking peeks at him from behind his textbook

[ozzgin]

I love your reader insert stuff!! The yandere yazuka series was vvvv entertaining, I wish I had a big scary gangster to scare away my stalker lol

If you are open to requests, how about Idol!Reader x Yandere!Bodyguard. I love the trope so much, and I'm interested and what you'd do with the idea. No worries if you're not interested tho!

Best wishes

-🌟

I just finished writing it and you've got me punching the air with your prompt. It wasn't really my thing but I'm now sold. Thank you for the trope idea. :’)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (I)

Short scenario featuring your bodyguard that takes his duty a little too seriously. Not that you’d mind…

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

TW: violence

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Fantastic show tonight!"

The older man guides you in and closes the door behind him. You smile warmly and seat yourself on the sofa. He quickly follows, although at a terribly uncomfortable proximity. His legs are pressed against yours and he extends an arm behind you, pretending to stretch. You shuffle awkwardly and lock your hands in your lap. You can already tell where this is going.

"With your talent, I'm confident we could triple the number of attendants. We just need a bigger venue." He nods at you and taps your thigh with his other free hand as encouragement. You notice the wedding band digging into his skin. 

"Alas, let us not waste the evening with business talk. I'm sure a stunning lady like you has better things to do." He laughs at his own compliment and ponders for a minute. "In fact, why don't we have dinner together? I know a great restaurant in the area."

You open your mouth to speak, but are distracted by the sudden, mild pressure on your leg. Somehow, his greasy fingers have wandered further up in the time you listened to his shameless offer. You've been in this career for long enough to guess what such proposals entail. If you say no, best case scenario he presses further, calling you a stuck up bitch and reminding you who has the power in this partnership. Worst case scenario, he leaves the room and the calls and invitations to perform will gradually drop. 

Yet your situation is special, benefitting from an additional possibility. A loophole, if you may.

Should you scream? Oh, he always gets so angry when you act scared. It's an immediate trigger. He really has a soft spot for your glistening, frightened eyes. You glance up one final time at the perverted smirk silently disregarding you. If you are to be honest with yourself, you'd very much enjoy seeing it wiped off forever. Why not? You're feeling particularly mean today.

So without hesitation, you release a high pitched yell of help. The door bursts open and the hinges creak. A tall, toned man walks in, and without a word he lunges at the manager, pulling him by the collar of his cheap dress jacket. You hold your cheeks dramatically, and bat your eyelashes at your bodyguard.

"H-he tried to molest me..." you mumble between sobs.

That's all he needs to proceed. Now the real fun begins. You can hear the muffled screams of protest. The bones crack and the flesh bends under his iron fists. Standing before your bodyguard, they all end up looking like ragdolls. Comically limp and weak, folding and breaking with no resistance. It amuses you greatly.

When did it all begin? You can't remember anymore. You were in your early years and this scary looking stranger entered your little backstage room. His explanation was brief and to the point: as your fame increases, so will the threats to your safety. He was appointed as your bodyguard. You couldn't care less, so you just shrugged. 

You've always been on the playful side. Not necessarily rude, just some innocent tease and banter wherever it's well received. Seeing him so quiet and stoic, you couldn't help but try to push his buttons: changing in front of him and requiring his assistance, occasionally asking him to pick you up and carry you because you could no longer walk. Naturally you would've stopped at the first complaint, but that's the strange part: no reaction ever came. He went along with everything. You assumed it's part of the job. Celebrities aren't known for their good manners, so hiring someone that loses their temper easily would be a fast ticket to termination.

Then you had your first encounter with one of the unpleasant fans you've been warned about. You could only stare in terror at your bodyguard's feral, unhinged reaction. The unfortunate fan's face was so disfigured, you wondered if anyone could ever manage to fix it back into shape. The bodyguard was panting and you could see the sweat coating his face and chest. You were rather confident there were many other ways to deal with it and this wasn't on the recommended list. Thus you felt compelled to ask the million dollar question:

"You act like a jealous spouse. Do you have a crush on me or something?"

You kind of regretted your audacity towards a man that had just nearly killed someone. But his features softened instantly and he turned to you, wiping his forehead and straightening his collar. 

"I suppose so. Is that an issue?"

As you stared ahead, processing his unbothered act, you sensed your cheeks feverishly burning. Uh oh. You hadn't anticipated such a nonchalant confession. You thought back to all the times you stood before him, bare and flirty. Was he merely holding back his urges the entire time? Or was he finally paying you back for all the teasing? Then again, his face didn't betray any hint of humor.

"I've never heard you joke before", you decided to test the waters.

"I'm not. Why would I joke about something like this?" He gazed at you incredulously. 

As somber and honest as ever. Well, that would indeed explain why he'd let you get away with the cheeky behavior. The more you considered it, the more entranced you became with the idea of indulging in such a relationship. As a famous idol, you couldn't be seen dating anyone. One rumor of you having a boyfriend and the agency would've had your ass suspended. But no one said anything about messing around with your bodyguard. He has to be with you all the time, so no one would suspect a thing. And you could definitely expand his list of responsibilities. You'd been terribly stressed lately, after all, and an outlet to release your frustrations would be most welcomed. Your bodyguard would never refuse pleasing his beloved.

You chuckled and pulled him towards your dressing room, giddy with excitement. Something about his imposing presence, like a wild animal that had just escaped from the leash, aroused you to no end. You've had your share of crazy fans, but this was the cherry on top. 

"Should we leave?"

You're jolted out of your daydreams by his low, rough voice. Ah, you missed the grand finale. Too bad. The bodyguard approaches you, with the shirt wrinkled and the top buttons popped open under the shuffle of his vicious attack. You can feel the knot forming in your stomach.

"Not yet. You know how I get when you act like this..." You pout and look away. "You need to take care of me first."

He grins at your last statement.

"Of course. Is the sofa okay?"

You nod.

"Then let's get you undressed, miss."

Is this what they call a scary dog privilege? 

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: yandere, kidnapping

fem reader

Just had another thought about bully!Bakugou and quirkless childhood friend!darling...

You fall off the grid after high school only to reveal yourself several years later, right in the thick of his career.

He’s been recruited to go on an undercover mission to uncover a major drug scheme. He and a female operative are to play newlyweds, living together in a pretty suburban picket fence house where you'll be conducting surveillance on the neighboring family.

When you walk into the brief, you don’t give any sign of having recognized him. Nor him you, even though his chest and throat tightened to the point he had to stifle a cough.

When you sit down, you’re calm and collected while letting slip a smooth, breathless scoff – giving a slight smirk, saying calmly, “You jokers chose this landmine for a covert mission?”

“You two know each other?”

Your eyes slide off to look at Bakugou, eyeing him up and down where he sits – trying his best to hide it, but your trained eyes see it clear as day – rigid, short-breathed, a little sweaty. He’s shocked, he’s nervous, he’s even a little embarrassed.

You smile. And despite the history, all you offer in answer is a curt, “We used to.”

Bakugou feels like you have him by the balls. His jaw doesn’t unlock during the entirety of the meeting, reading the list of your responsibilities while they’re explained. How the entire neighborhood might be both bugged and surveyed by the target, so you’ll have to perform as a real married couple every waking hour – including eating together, sleeping together, kissing each other, fucking each other so as not to raise any suspicion.

You don’t budge or show any tells. You’ve been trained for this, and you’ve done this type of work plenty of times before already. Bakugou had read your file, so he knew – but shit, how weren’t you uncomfortable?

The mission lasts three long months and seventeen days. And when it’s done, you fall right off the grid again as though none of it had meant a thing.

And he knows that that’s how it’s supposed to be. He knows none of it is supposed to be real, but how can it not have been? It can't have all been a performance. He rejects that. He refuses it. He knows for certain you couldn’t have been acting all that time. You couldn’t because he hadn’t.

He’s breaking so many rules, tracking you down. And your disgust of his unprofessionalism is written all over your face when you open the door to find him having been the one to ring your doorbell. Still, you save saying anything but gesture for him to come inside.

“You weren’t easy to find-”

“This is gross misconduct, Bakugou. I can have you reported.” You cut him off. He’s not heard that voice come out of you. When you were his wife, you’d only speak sweetly – lovingly and dotingly, often with your arms slung around him, your hands in the short stubble at the back of his neck, smiling up at him so prettily.

You were scowling now.

“Are you?” He asks.

You stare at him for a moment, but then you give in with a sigh – trodding off to what he guesses is the kitchen without an answer to his question. But the silence is an answer in and of itself.

You dress differently than you did. No frilly little dress. But sweatpants and a tank – no jewelry, no makeup, hair undone.

You open the fridge and hand him a beer, then you crack one open yourself. “I have something stronger if you need it.” You say then, but he waves a no. So you lean against the counter and bring your can up to your lips. “Why are you here?”

He watches you drink for a moment. When you were his wife, you didn’t like beer, you only drank white wine, and it always made you tipsy after a couple of sips. You would never even finish a glass before becoming slow and dull-eyed. Suppose he’d never actually seen you drunk at all…

He doesn’t open his beer, feeling the cold dew drip over his knuckles. “Do you miss it?” He asks.

You look him in the eyes with slanted ones of your own. “I’m not humoring that question. If you’re having issues, you should file for a shrink. The bureau offers the best, they’ll suck out all the shit from your mind, and you’ll go back to normal within a week or two.”

“I don’t wanna go back to normal.”

You look annoyed, but then your face softens. “It’s like that the first time. It’ll pass.”

He doesn’t believe you. In your file, it said that you’d done this seven times before. Sometimes much longer than the months you’d spent together.

“It was a job, now it’s over. You need to shut the door on it and move on with your life.”

You say that, but looking around your space, it seems your job doesn’t allow much of life to take place. You have a couch and a TV, but otherwise, everything is barren. No pictures on the walls, no decorations. Where a dining table should stand, you have workout equipment instead, sprawled out over the entire floor. And if he saw your fridge correctly, you only have beer and TV dinners.

“You always on the job?” He asks.

You place your finished beer upside down in the sink, letting the last drops dry off while muttering out a retort, “Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t hear it, though. Too busy looking at you, standing there against the sink – looking the way you did when you’d wash dishes after dinner. You’re not wearing a summer dress or an apron – but you stand the same way. Slightly bent over, hips pushed into the countertop, ass pushed out like a welcome. 

He sets his beer off on the counter and takes his spot behind you, sliding his bigger hands around your small waist, slotting himself against you with his crotch nudged nicely against your butt. It feels right.

You make a small sound, going a little rigid at the unsuspected attack – but weren’t brash enough to push him away. You were rational enough to accept you wouldn’t be able to if you tried. 

“You sure you don’t miss it?” He asks again in a murmur, brushing his lips up your artery – nuzzling against you – his heavy chest resting against your shoulder blades – and you could feel the equally heavy pounding of his heart.

“Listen, Bakugou… whatever you think you miss, it doesn’t exist.” You state flatly. “Dominic and Suzie aren’t real.”

Those had been your names. Dominic and Suzie, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks. Your identities for three months. But now, no more.

“But they can be…” Bakugou whispered back, tugging you a little closer – then released a small breathless laugh. “We always used to say we’d get married one day, remember? When we were brats…”

A small smile creased a dimple on your cheek at the memory, but only for a small second before you remembered everything he’d put you through after. “We’re not brats anymore. And honestly-” You catch your tongue and never finish the thought. It’s so long ago it doesn’t matter.

You sigh, knowing you’re lying to yourself. 

You relax again and drop your head back to rest on his shoulder, overlapping his hands with yours. “In retrospect, we should have filed for replacement from the start.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You pause a little bit, weighing whether you want to tell him or not. “I felt I had something to prove.” You confess. “You’ve always made me feel worthless, so when I was presented with the opportunity to rub it in your face, the child in me couldn’t resist.” 

You thought it would feel like a victory, a sweet revenge, but in the end, it just made you disappointed in yourself. How could you think playing house with a person you hate would do you any justice?

“It was stupid, and I regret it. I’m better than that.” You add resolutely. “Nevertheless, mission complete. It’s behind us now.”

Bakugou didn’t agree, still holding you the same way he’d done. 

 “You should let go of me.” You sigh again. “I’m not gonna act like Suzie for you, so-”

“I don’t want you to act like Suzie.” He interjected, nuzzling against your neck with a whisper. “I want you... the real you.”

You scoff. “Fuck- Katsuki, look around you. There’s nothing here to want.”

“Let’s make something then.” He argues, pressing a soft kiss below your ear. “It was always supposed to be us two. From the start.”

“What are you talking about?” You won't deny the contact feels good. Good enough to make your voice come out in a moan.

“I’m talking about me and you, anywhere we choose.” He continues with his kisses, and you close your eyes to the feeling but still scoff at the offer. 

“You’re talking about a dream. I’m not leaving my job to chase some fantasy with you.”

There's a silence, and Bakugou’s voice comes out more serious after. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

Your brows furrow, and you open your eyes again.

He still kisses your neck, now with his hands rubbing firm circles in your sides.  

“You were very hard to find…” He mutters. “I doubt anyone would notice if you went missing…”

“Katsuki-” You protest, still calm as you try and push yourself from the counter, but it’s an aimless effort. His touches only grow stronger to keep you in place.

“The bureau would think you’d decided to go private or retire. And given your record, I don’t think they’d spend too many resources trying to find you.”

“Katsuki, let go-” It’s scary, but you’ve been in scarier situations, so you’re able to keep your cool still – despite the chills that run up your spine from his speech. “You’re talking crazy-”

“Living like this is what’s crazy.” He answers.

His apartment looks the same. Nothing personal anywhere except a vain mantle lined with diplomas and trophies he’d received for civic duties when he’d laid his life on the line. Otherwise, it was as stale as a cheap hotel room – no art, no pictures, no carpets, not even a lamp. Just the necessities. Kitchen articles and a bed.

“I need you. And by the looks of things, you need me too.”

[ashwhowrites]

Just found all your wonderful angst fics and honestly I feel like there is a distinct lack of HURTS SO GOOD angst out there. So I am DE-LIGH-TED to have found you. Thank you for your words and your writing. ❤️

But I have a request because of course I do! Eddie Munson!

So: angst: 30, 32 and then fluff: 16 and angry confessions 9 (except if I may be extra needy and request that we change the her in 30 to a them? Twins. One boy and the other authors choice.)

The idea: Eddie and reader started dating at Hawkins High and about a year or two after graduating someone from a label hears the band and wants an EP recorded in an actual studio! The band travels to the nearest studio.

When Eddie returns he tells reader that his dream is coming true the label is ready to sign them and they want them to start touring this year and opening for bigger bands to get their name out.

Reader overhears Eddie talking with the label guy. Eddie wants to bring reader on the tour and label guy shuts it down and says ‘end the relationship so you can actually enjoy the fame.’ He asks if Eddie is gonna marry reader and Eddie gets nervous and says idk, reader is hurt by that. Label guy asks if they have kids and Eddie is a little too enthusiastic in saying no and he doesn’t know if he wants kids. (Insecure about what kind of dad he’d be) and label guy tells Eddie this tour will make or beak his future and he needs no distractions. And a girl back home? Distracting.

Reader is then horrified that she’ll ruin Eddie’s dream. She breaks up with him before the tour, hiding the real reason. She wants him to have his dream even if it kills hers. Eddie leaves on tour mad and heartbroken.

Reader finds out she is pregnant after Eddie leaves. The band is supposed to come back to Hawkins after a few months on tour. Eddie promised he and reader would talk more about their relationship and reader will tell him then.

The band is insanely successful on tour. Eddie doesn’t come back. Doesn’t answer calls, letters. Reader stops trying after a year.

The twins are around five when Eddie, now a known rockstar, returns to his hometown. Meet-cute of adorable twins and Eddie occurs.

You ARE the father!

Eddie and reader talk/fight. But happy ending when all is said and done, back together and a family.

Sorry this is so long but ily and your writing❤️❤️❤️

I hope this is what you wanted and thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻 I did only pick the two you resent, thank you for that! I feel like this fic is a bit all over the place but I think I included everything you asked 🤞🏻

I just sent that long request and I’m so sorry I didn’t see the no more than two limit on the prompt list link. Please feel free to shorten those to angst 30 and fluff 16 Thank you.

"There's not a single reason I can't think of for me to let you see her. You may be her father, but I'm her everything"

"I never thought I could miss someone this much"

"Baby you will not believe what just happened!" Eddie said as he came rushing out from the backroom. He was drenched in sweat, as he finished his set with the band.

"What?" Y/N asked, she pushed back his sweaty bangs and his hands landed on her hips

"This dude from some label liked our set! He wants us to visit his studio and perform a few songs. Then if he likes it, he'll sign us!" Y/N smiled as her boyfriend's eyes were bright with happiness. His smile was so huge and his voice was loud.

"That's amazing, oh my god!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. She didn't mind the sweat, she had been with Eddie for years and grew used to it.

The next day Y/N waited in their small apartment as Eddie attended the studio. She paced through their carpet as she stared at the door. She was so nervous for him, this could be his big break. And if he didn't get it, she wasn't sure how he would handle it.

She ran to the door as she heard the lock turn, giving him no time to walk into the house when she raced out all her questions. He smiled as her mouth ran until she almost lost breath, he leaned in and pecked her lips.

"Good?" he asked, a small chuckle leaving his lips

"Yeah, sorry," she said as she took in as much air as she could. She let him through the door and waited for him to speak. He closed the door and turned to her with a smirk.

"Well?" she asked, smacking his arm as she bounced on her feet

"Want to have sex with a newly signed rockstar?" he asked, opening his arms as he knew his girlfriend too well.

"OH MY GOD!" she screamed with excitement, throwing herself in his arms. She was practically jumping in his arms. He was damn excited too, and his heart felt full of how happy she was for him. He never would have made it without her.

"And! He wants us to tour next month, open for some other bands of his to get our name out there!"

Y/N pulled back to see his face but stayed in his arms.

"Next month? For how long?" she asked. She was happy this was going to happen for him, but she was sad at how fast he would be yanked from her.

"Just a few months, less than a year. But I promise I'm not leaving you behind, okay?" she smiled at his words, nodding as she softly placed her lips on his.

"Shall we celebrate Mr. Rockstar?" she whispered against his lips, teasing him as she bit his lower lip. "In the bedroom."

"I think I wanna celebrate right here," Eddie growled, wasting no time as he smashed his lips on hers and tasted her mouth with his tongue. He pressed her body against the door and was fast to unbuckle his jeans.

~~~

A few days passed when Nick, the label guy, showed up at their apartment. Y/N left Eddie with a kiss and headed to their bedroom as the band talked. The walls were thin so she could hear the conversation, but still wanted to feel as she gave them privacy.

They talked about the basics of everything and Y/N tried not to listen in too much. But once she heard the band leave and her name was brought up, she couldn't help but listen in.

"I want to do this tour, and I know the band wants it. But my girl is here, she and I haven't been separated in years. She is in full support and I want her to come with," Eddie explained. Y/N smiled at his words, her heart beaming with love.

"Does she have a ring on her finger?" Nick asked, Y/N couldn't see his face but he sounded annoyed.

"Well no but-"

"Are you going to put a ring on her finger anytime soon?"

Y/N held her breath as she waited for Eddie's response

Eddie stuttered as his throat felt dry, "Well..I..I don't know." he chuckled uncomfortably

Well that hurt, Y/N thought. They had been together for over three years and he had no time frame of when he wanted to get engaged? Was he even thinking of a ring?

"Got any kids with her?" Nick asked

"Hell no," Eddie laughed, "Pretty sure I don't even want any."

Y/N felt her heart snap into two. This whole time she thought they were dreaming of the same future. She wanted a ring and kids with Eddie, and it hurt like hell that he was on a different page.

"Son, you are about to go on a world tour. You are going to be in a different state every night. Let the girl go and enjoy the fame. This is your first and only chance to make something of yourself. You don't want distractions. She's a chick, and chicks bring drama. You pick Eddie."

Y/N blinked away tears as the front door slammed shut. She was quick to jump in bed when she heard Eddie begin walking to the room.

~

Y/N was up all night as she repeated Nick's words in her head. She couldn't make Eddie choose between his dream and her. She could feel how tense his body was as he slept, Nick's words weighing him down too.

She knew Eddie loved her too much to break up with her, and he wouldn't break his promise of not leaving her behind. But he needed to go, he needed this for his career. She loved him strong enough to let him go without her.

~~~

"Eddie? Can we talk?"

Eddie looked up from his guitar, brown eyes worried. "What's wrong?" He was quick to grab her hand and pull her between his legs. He sat on the bed and she stood before him, tears in her eyes.

"You know how we talked about me staying here while you go on tour?"

"Yeah, but only because of Nick. If I could have it my way, you'd be right there," he said with a smile as he softly rubbed her hand.

She hated how sweet he was, it was making this all much harder.

"I'm a little worried about us being separated that long," she said

"Trust me, I'm coming home to you and none of my feelings are going to change just because of the distance" he tried to reassure her. He knew Y/N was the love of his life and he'd never ruin what they had.

"What if things on the road change your beliefs? You know, what if..." She slowly trailed off.

"What if, what?" He asked, confused as he looked in her eyes for answers.

"What if you meet someone else? There's going to be a lot of girls throwing themselves at you"

"They can throw themselves at me as much as they want, they'd never make me forget about you. I love you and I'd never ruin what we have for a random girl on the road," he explained

"I don't know if I can believe you," she lied, "what if you get in trouble with drugs? And you can't stop and fall addicted? You have many addicts in your family and one weak moment, you might find a girl to make it feel better," she could see her words were starting to take effect on him. His eyes gloss over with anger, but that's what she needed. He didn't need her holding him back and being a distraction.

"Wow," he scoffed, standing up. "I haven't touched any other drug except weed my whole life. And you think I'm that stupid that I'd dive right into hard core shit just because I'm on tour? I can get the same shit down the block!" He argued.

"Have you ever been tempted?" She asked

"Fuck no, but you probably wouldn't believe that either," he said as he rolled his eyes. "I mean we've been together for years, I understand this is a big change for us, but why do you suddenly think I won't have any self control?"

Because I'm making all of this up so you'll leave pissed off and I won't be a distraction, she thought.

She was silent and Eddie felt himself growing angier by it.

"Because I won't be there!"

"Oh now the truth comes out. You don't think I can say no. You think a slutty girl will jump on my lap and you think I'll just love it and fuck her. Then she'll bring me to a party with hard drugs and before I know it I'm snorting drugs off her body." He laughed, but it had no humor behind it. She knew she was hurting him but that meant everything was working.

"If you really think that I would cheat on you, then maybe we weren't as strong as I thought" he added, his voice a little sad as he sat back down.

"I think it's best if we take a break while you're on tour. And you can do whatever you want on it, and we'll talk when you come back."

Eddie nodded at her words. He didn't agree with anything but he wasn't going to try to change her mind. She had this view of him and he couldn't fix it.

~~~

The first few weeks with Eddie gone was hell. Y/N cried every morning and every night. She was in so much pain and hated she couldn't reach for him. She wanted to call and tell him the truth, that everything was a lie and she did it so he could be happy. But the suffering was becoming too much and she just wanted to be with him again, in his arms and in his heart. She couldn't forget the broken look in his eye when he left, the loudness of the door as it slammed.

She found out she was pregnant, adding more guilt to her life. He was supposed to come home at the end of the month, and he promised before he left that they would talk about their relationship. He didn't want to give up on them and she believed that.

But then the end of the month came and she hadn't heard a word. Her calls went unanswered and his body never walked through the front door. She wanted to tell him she was pregnant when she saw him in person again but she wasn't sure went that would be. She didn't know if he was in town or where he ended up, all she knew was that he wasn't coming back to her right now. She kept calling and wrote letters to his management, but no response.

She waited and waited, maybe the tour added more dates. They were broken up so she didn't expect him to update her on everything but she wished he'd answer at least one call.

She called every day for a year, and never once did her phone ring back.

~~~

Five years passed and she gave up on Eddie, she gave up years ago when he refused to come back to her. She figured she caused too much pain and broke his heart so he moved on. The thought killed her but him being happy was all she wanted in life.

It turned out she was pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl. They reminded her of Eddie, some days it made her happy, and other days it killed her. They didn't know a life with a dad so she never spoke to them about it, and they never asked. To them just having mom was normal and she didn't want to disturb that. Because she honestly didn't think she'd ever see Eddie again.

"Christopher, you need to stop running!" Y/N scolded as she pushed Beverly on the swing set. The boy laughed as he ran faster, his curls bouncing with every step.

She groaned as she gave Beverly another push and then ran after him.

Once she caught him, she got them ready in the car. She loved her kids but damn they were so energetic, and she knew who they got it from.

They looked alike in ways, the same brown curly hair, Beverly's was longer. Same eyes and the same sass.

She sighed in relief when she pulled up to the house, ready to put them in a room and have time to herself. But her stomach turned when a black SUV was parked in the driveway.

"Momma, who's that?" Christopher asked, his curious eyes settled on the car. The windows were dark and they couldn't see in it.

"I don't know. I'll go check, stay here." She said, she got out of the car and walked over to the car. Before she could walk up to knock on the driver's window, the back door opened. She froze in her spot.

Eddie exited out of the car, hair tied up in a bun but a few curls loose on his forehead. He had many more tattoos, his arms covered in ink until it disappeared under his short sleeve. He wore sunglasses, which she was thankful for. She feared if she could see his eyes she'd melt in a puddle.

"Hi stranger, can we talk?"

His voice sent shivers down her spine. She's only heard it on the radio, either his songs or an interview. She never had the heart to turn it, always wondering if he was happy. If chasing him away was the right decision.

"I...I... Eddie...I" she stuttered, completely in shock as he stood in front of her. He was real, and he was here, after five long years. "I can't right now, but tonight? I can meet you somewhere." She said, her eyes looking back to her car and then to him.

He looked at her car and looked back, he couldn't see inside but he knew there was someone she didn't want him to see. He figured it was a new boyfriend or something, he couldn't help but look down at her hand. Relief in his stomach when he didn't see a ring. She must have not lived alone, he suspected since she didn't want him inside.

"Sure, had to get a new number so here," he said as he handed her a piece of paper. "Text me when and where and I'll be there."

She smiled as she took the piece of paper, hoping she was covering how much anxiety she had.

"You look incredible, by the way." He said as he got in the car. She watched as the door slammed and the car backed out of the driveway.

~

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Steve asked. Steve was one of her best friends from high school and he knew the truth about everything. He was the godfather to her kids and he spoiled the crap out of them. But he was also her rock, she couldn't imagine doing everything on her own.

"It's just dinner, Steve," she said as she tore apart her closet.

"Just dinner?" He chuckled, "Then why did you take half an hour in the shower, and now tearing apart your closet for something sexy to wear?" He asked, a smirk on his face as she froze.

She coughed and yanked the dress off the hanger. "I don't know what you're talking about"

Steve laughed as her bathroom door closed. "I suppose I'll take the kids and leave!"

"I'll call you when I'm on my way to pick them up!" She said through the door

~

Y/N felt like she was going on a first date all over again. Her stomach was filled with butterflies, but all the fluttering made her feel like she was going to be sick.

She knew Eddie, but she didn't know this new version of him. She didn't know the Rockstar and the man with all the fame.

She wasn't sure why he wanted to talk. It has been five years and she accepted he'd never come back to her. But now he was but for what? Did he want to get back together? Even though they haven't talked in five years. Did he want to rub it in her face that he made it big without her? Thank her for being the reason he left in the first place?

She swallowed nervously as she walked into the small restaurant, the lights were dim creating a romantic atmosphere. Eddie was already at a table, sipping on a beer.

"Sorry, hope you weren't waiting long," she said as she took a seat.

He perked up in his seat, "No I just got here, you're fine." He said with a smile. She forgot how calm she felt near him, seeing his smile and eyes made all her anxiety melt away.

"I told you she would show up!" The young waiter said as he patted Eddie on the back. Eddie gave the waiter a side eye as his face blushed. "At least you only had to wait half an hour, a guy last night waited two full hours before he gave up." The waiter laughed.

Y/N and Eddie were quick to order another drink and send him on his way. Eddie wanted to smack his head against the table once he left.

"Thirty minutes? Thought you just got here," she teased, laughing softly.

"Little white lie," he chuckled

They laughed until it died in silence. They stared silently at each other, memorizing each other's faces.

"That's a beautiful dress," Eddie said. A nervous cough followed and he took a swig of his beer. She made him nervous, he felt like he was meeting her for the first time all over again. Everything he said or did tonight had to impress her. Almost like he had to win her over.

"Oh thank you," she said as she pushed down the material on her thighs. "You look good, and the new tattoos are incredible." She complimented, itching to push up his sleeve and see how far up the tattoos went. She wondered if he had any more in other places, and how many different women got to see them, feel them, and trace them. She used to trace his ink after sex all the time, and her stomach felt unsettled thinking about all the other women who touched his new ink before she had the chance. She never thought she'd share his body with anyone new, it was hers for life, at least it used to be.

"Thank you," he said. He was guilty of thinking the same thing she was. He wanted to reach over the table and run her fingers up and down his arm. He craved to feel her soft touch on his skin, tracing the shapes and planting wet kisses on his neck. He shivered at the memories that played through his head.

"How was, uh tour?" She asked. She knew bringing it up would make them uncomfortable, and she was right. The second tour left her lips, and both of their bodies went stiff.

"It was great," he said, unable to look in her eyes as he traced the top of his glass. "Touring for five years seems crazy now, but once I started I didn't want to stop."

She felt his words hit her like a blow, but he got his dream.

"I'm really glad it worked out and you guys got to tour for many more years." She meant it. Even though the space between them killed her, she couldn't have been more proud of him.

"Yeah, but I'm back in town for good. And I know when I left things weren't right between us. I don't know if you are seeing someone or anything, but I came back to you for a reason," he explained. He played with his rings, showing her he was just as nervous about this conversation as she was.

"What's the reason, Eddie?" She asked, but she had a good feeling about what he was going to say. And if he did say it, she was going to get pissed.

"I miss you and I miss us. I thought if I kept the tour going, I'd never have to face how shitty everything was without you."

"Do you remember when you promised me we'd talk about it when you came back? As in years ago? I was waiting for you. I was waiting like a god damn idiot. You miss me? Well, screw you." She spat, already planning to stand up but he was quick to grab her hand and pull her back down.

"I know! Okay, I know. I was pissed off when I left and hurt that you believed I would ever cheat on you. I was angry and each time I performed I got more angry. I was singing about a girl that didn't trust me to not fuck up without her there. It fucked with my head and I started to wish I hated you, and that broke my heart." He explained, "Then you'd call and all I wanted to do was answer and tell you how bad you fucked with my head. That this tour was supposed to be everything to me and I hated every second of it because all I could think about was if you were trusting me or not." Eddie ranted, trying his best to stay calm.

"If you were so mad at me that you wanted to hate me, why didn't you at least try to talk to me?"

"You broke up with me, I didn't want to talk to you. Is that so wrong of me?" Eddie asked

"I mean no, but at least one phone call would have been nice. Even if you told me to fuck off and never talk to you again, at least it would have told me where we stood. I waited for you to come home and you didn't bother to tell me you changed your mind. You talked about not changing, but you did change. You broke a promise, and you never break those." She argued, taking deep breaths as she felt the need to cry.

"I'm sorry that I never communicated. I was at these parties and girls were throwing themselves at me, just like you said. I didn't want any of them, never even blinked in their direction. I wanted to prove that I could be someone you could trust. And then I thought I shouldn't have to prove that to you because I've been loyal since the day we got together. What you said wasn't fair. I'm being as honest as I can. You broke my heart and I wanted to hurt you." He felt bad for saying it but he never told her how much pain she caused him.

"Everything you felt was valid. I did ask for a break and I put us in that situation. I'm really sorry for hurting you. But I can explain why," she sighed

"I didn't want to break up or anything. I wanted to stay together, no matter how long you would be gone. I love you, Eddie and that never changed. But I was scared that if you stayed with me, you'd regret it."

"Baby, why would I ever regret you?" His voice sounded sad. She sniffled back tears and continued.

"I overheard you and Nick talking. I was fine with staying back and letting you go alone. Nick didn't want distractions and that was fine. But Eddie asked about marriage and kids. He asked you what future you planned to have with me, and you didn't have an answer. You laughed at the idea and that hurt. I couldn't put myself through long distance, waiting for you to come home, when you weren't even sure if I was the one for life. I lied and made all of that shit up so you would want to leave me. And so you could go on the tour without our distance dragging you down. And I think I also did it to protect myself. Because if I waited for you and you came back with a change of heart, I wouldn't ever recover."

"I do want to marry you, I've always wanted that. He wanted a time frame and I panicked. I knew I'd marry you, but I had no idea how soon it would be. I know I waited long and you're completely valid to protect yourself. Putting a date on it scared me and I'm sorry that I didn't handle it well. And for the kids," Y/N felt her body stiffen. She felt like she was holding her breath, terrified of what he'd say. "I'm scared too. I don't know if I have what it takes to be a dad. You are perfect and always perfect at everything. I think I could be a good husband to you, but I don't think I'd keep up to be a good dad like you would be as a mom. I'm scared to fail you." He confessed, his eyes turning red as tears slipped down his cheek. The tip of his nose was red as more tears fell.

"What about now? It's been five years. Was all that time away enough for you to commit to me like that?" She asked

"I thought about you the whole time and once I got my head out of my ass I went straight to you. I haven't seen anyone, family or friends. I got off the plane and headed to you. I've been mad at you but realized that never took away any of my love for you. There was never a girl that could make me forget about you. I want you and I'd marry you right now at the courthouse if you asked me to." And he meant it.

"We both hurt each other, and both said things we didn't mean. We've matured and grown up a little more. I think we can start on a clean slate?" Y/N asked, reaching over to offer her hand

Eddie smiled and shook it, a clean slate.

~~~

A few weeks passed since Eddie and Y/N talked. They agreed to just start as friends, and not jump into anything. Y/N wanted to get back together but she knew it would get complicated once her kids were involved.

She didn't have a plan to introduce them, and that backfired.

Eddie showed up unannounced at the house, he still had his key and he walked right in.

Y/N was giving Beverly a bath, music playing from the small speaker on the counter. Y/N laughed as Beverly blew bubbles around the room. Christopher was in his room, loudly banging trucks together. Everyone was unaware of Eddie walking through the house.

Eddie couldn't help but look at how much their home changed. It was clear children lived here, from the small plates, cups, and toys on the floor. The pictures on the wall caught his attention, his eyes glued to the photographs.

She had a family, she had two small kids. The beauty of all three of them took Eddie's breath away. She had a boy and girl on each side of her, and both kids had dark curly hair. He gulped, the kids looked identical to him.

Eddie heard laughing coming from the bathroom, and he followed the sound. He walked down that hallway a thousand times and never pictured he'd hear a little girl's laugh coming from it. He softly pushed the cracked door open.

His heart warmed at the sight, he knew Y/N would be a good mother but seeing it was something else. The way she smiled so big and the pure joy on her face, it killed Eddie to know how much he missed out.

Eddie coughed to get her attention

"Eddie?" she gasped in shock

"Can we talk?" He asked, his eyes looking to the small girl in the tub

~

"A clean slate and you didn't bother to tell me I had two fucking kids?" Eddie hissed, keeping his voice low as both kids were settled in the bedroom.

"A clean slate for us, my kids have nothing to do with you," Y/N fought back

"Nothing to do with me? I'm their father!"

"No, you're not! You helped me make them, sure. But your name is not on the birth certificate, they don't know you, and they don't have your last name. I'm sorry but there's not a single reason I can't think of for me to let you see them. You may be their father, but I'm their everything" Y/N said, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"That's not fair, I never got a chance," he argued

"You did! Do you think I called you for a whole year just because I was clingy? All you had to do was answer the fucking phone or better yet, showed up when you said you would." She spat, her voice filled with anger as she shoved past him.

He followed her into the bedroom, closing the door.

"You could have left a message!"

He stepped back when she pushed a finger against his chest and went head to head-with him.

"Listen, you don't get to make this my fault. I called, I tried, and I sure as hell did my fucking part" she hissed through her clenched teeth.

Eddie knew he was in the wrong so he backed down, he gently grabbed the finger on his chest and brought it down to her side. He held her hand and spoke softly,

"You're right. You tried and It's all on me that I never picked up. I understand why I don't have a place. But I'm here now, and I want to be here. I want to be a family."

Y/N turned her head away as she blinked away tears, she could feel her walls breaking down. He touched her cheek and turned her head to face him.

"I know you are their everything, but I want to help you. Let me be their dad, please," he begged, he slowly leaned in, "You've always been everything to me, and I want them to be everything to me too. We can be a family, I'm not going anywhere."

She cried as she leaned in as well, "I want to be a family too"

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered

She nodded and leaned in, she moaned as she felt his lips on hers again. His soft touch on her skin and the desperation of his kiss made her stomach flutter.

He pulled away slowly, his eyes locked on hers

"I never thought I could miss someone this much" he whispered before he leaned in again.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[be-missed]

Find You Again

Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

(pictures not mine)

Summary: Reuniting as stars, former high school sweethearts stage a fake relationship to boost their public image. Navigating the scripted romance, sparks fly. The big question: can this staged connection reignite their real love?

Warning: curse words, notify me if there are any. Credits to the owner for the picture that I used below the cut.

A/N: I'm so excited to write this, enjoy. New series for y'all.

Song: I Can See You // Taylor Swift

Masterlist

Chap 1

______________________________________________________________

Flashing lights are all that Y/N can see, facing all the cameras in different angles, her name being shout by different people, and different set of eyes are focused on her. Walking the red carpet was one of the things that Y/N enjoys when she is invited for an event like the MET Gala; the other things that she enjoys, well, the women who walks with their wonderful dresses. Men? Not really, but the press and the people doesn't need to know that.

"You are staring" a voice from behind her said—her publicist, Emilia notified her when she was staring far too long to the woman that was in front of her. Y/N just shrugs and shakes her head, waiting for her turn to be interviewed.

A few minutes have passed, she is now the next in line to be interviewed, "So Y/N, what a lovely fit you have. Can you tell us who you are wearing?" the interviewer asked, and Y/N answered, "I am so honored to be chosen as one of Givenchy's Ambassador for this event, honoring one of the most prominent person that anyone knows in fashion..."

Y/N's voice got buried with a loud screaming from the bottom of the stairs. Fortunately Y/N got to finish her answer before she looked down. Then there she was, looking like a doll, dress to kill, looks that can melt; Jenna Ortega was standing in the bottom of the stairs, posing for every camera that she caught.

A smile creeping in Y/N's mouth has been caught by the reporter and the camera, this gave the reporter a chance to segue a hot topic that you and Jenna dance around, answering yet not giving the exact information that the people want, "Looks like Jenna Ortega arrived in the house, there have been rumors going around for quite some time now, that the two of you have a history?" the reporter asked with a malice on his voice.

Y/N smiled and answered "Well, we were uhm, friends way before our careers, so yes, we did know each other and yes I can say that we have a great history, but there's no bad blood between us" and chuckles, that leads to the reporters new question "So, if that's what it is, is she the muse for the new single titled 'I Can See You' that you dropped a few weeks ago and will perform later?"

Y/N chuckles and rubs her chin, trying to think of a way to dodge the question, "I mean, Jenna is a wonderful woman, I can't deny that, WE can't deny that. But you know, where is the fun of writing songs if I'm just gonna admit who I'm writing for, right?" Y/N leaves with a wink to the camera and entering the venue.

"That was fucking close. What's with the media trying to come up with something between me and Jenna? It's been going on for months" Y/N whispered to Emilia, trying to find a champagne that she can drink. "There are photos that are circulating in the internet from when you were in High School with Jenna" her publicist answered.

This statement made Y/N look at her publicist with a questing look "Okay, now what? I mean what can they make out of the pictures? I'm pretty sure Jenna is denying it for sure" and got the chance to seat at their designated table. "Yeah, she's totally not denying it, the both of you kept on giving vague answers. But they are the media and your fans, connecting every song that you write and the events that happens to your life and Jenna's life," Emilia said with a knowing look and sipping a champagne.

"How? I mean, I kept on using a he/him pronouns on my song to lower the connection. Don't tell me they are that smart to know and connect things, don't you?" Y/N said to her publicist, looking so worried about the on-going rumor that can't seem to die.

On the other side of the venue, Jenna was taking a seat with Enrique trying to hide an annoyed look. "What's with the rumors and Y/N, they kept on reoccurring, why can't it die?" Jenna said trying to fidget with pearls that on her dress. "You know that the both of you aren't denying anything, right?" Enrique said to the girl.

Jenna then send Enrique a look that can kill and said "I am denying it, that's for sure. While HER, she keeps on dancing around it" Enrique then shakes his head "Oh no darling, you weren't denying it, the BOTH of you are dancing around it. Please don't deny it" then Jenna answered him so quick "I am denying it, I kept on saying no..."

Enrique just chuckles and said "See, the both of you aren't denying anything. You and Y/N always say that the both of you are 'good friends' and for the record, the both of you are always in the same event" and ended his sentence with a shrug trying to prove his point.

Jenna just rolled her eyes and tries to listen to whoever is speaking. While Y/N got called backstage to get ready to perform.

The host announced that Y/N was about to perform. Lights were dimmed and a shadow in the middle can be seen, the intro starts, and the crowd began to applaud and scream for Y/N's name.

Jenna noticed the intro and looked at Enrique and said "Really, she's gonna sing this? Out of all the songs?" and Enrique chuckled at the comment and replied "Well that's her new song, what can we do but to listen and enjoy, right?"

The performance ended with pyrotechnics in the stage and a wild crowd.

As the host again took over the stage, Jenna decided that she needed another drink, because what the fuck was that lyric, it just added gas to the burning fire, nice move, she thought in a sarcastic tone.

"One sour whiskey please" Jenna said to the bar tender, wanting to seat in the bar stool but sadly, her gown is restricting her. While she was waiting for her drink, whispers can be heard from behind her, not wanting to know the drama she still decided to maintain her focus on the bar.

"Nice dress you have there"

Once the voice registered, her eyes widen and her hand clenches into fist. Thinking if she ignores the voice, it will just go away, because if she faces the other girl tonight, she don't know if she will make a scene. But to no avail, the voice speak again, now beside her.

"I said you look good in your dress, Miss Ortega" Jenna heard, now feeling a smirk plastered on Y/N's face. With all her might Jenna faced the other girl with a tight smile, her hand clenched by her side and said "I heard you the first time, you know?" with an eyebrow raised, "Oh so you were just ignoring me then?" Y/N said now trying to make a sad face.

Jenna's jaw clenched, how can Y/N take this like a joke, "Yes you are right, I am ignoring you" focusing back on the bartender, "But I thought we were 'good friends', right" Y/N answered while trying to tease Jenna, "In case if you didn't notice, I say that for us to have neutral grounds, now can you please piss off?" Jenna answered and thought that it might be a little harsh but she really just want to be away from Y/N.

Before Y/N got to say something, the bartender gave Jenna her drink, and when she's ready to walk away, a photographer got in her way and said "Hey Y/N and Jenna, can you please pose so that I can take a shot"

Y/N greeted the photographer with a smile and accepted the request, she pulls Jenna near her, while Jenna tries to stay her ground, "Come girls closer" the photographer again said and Y/N thought, "This man surely knows how to stir the pot"

The both of them smiled for the camera, closer than they have been for 5 years. This was the first picture of them that they were this close to each other after their career boomed and well, after what they had.

"Thanks ladies, enjoy the night" the photographer said and left the duo. "Okay you can let go now" Jenna said, "For your information, I also don't like being linked to you, so I came here to clear things out, yeah?" Y/N said with a nod in her head.

That surprises Jenna "Okay, I get that, then go on and deny that we had a history" Jenna said challenging Y/N, "You first, you are always out doing interview, unlike me, I don't have any premiere shows or any other events like this" Y/N smirked.

It made Jenna's blood boil again, inhale and exhale, she reminded herself. She doesn't want to make a scene and be banned to this gala, this is her second time, she doesn't want it to be her last she thought.

Y/N walked away and left Jenna stunned with her drink on hand.

---

After the MET Gala, of course there would be an after party, Jenna was invited to many but decided to go to the nearest one to her hotel.

Trying to fix her make-up inside the car that she is on, she hears Enrique say, "Okay, slow down with the drinks, we don't need you going around the place" with a knowing look, Jenna then replied "That was ONE time oh my god, please let that go" with an annoyed tone.

Her car stopped at the entrance, looking outside through her window she saw a dozen of paparazzi trying to get a picture of none other than Y/F/N Y/L/N.

"Fuck, no fucking way" Jenna said to Enrique, still looking at the window, "What? What's the problem?" Enrique asked her worriedly, "Y/N is here, I can't stand another minute of faking smiles with her, every time I see her I fell like my stomach churns and I want to vomit so bad. Enrique please, let's go to another party" Jenna pleaded that earned a shakes to Enrique's head.

"Nope, can't be, your manager chose this party so you can mingle with different artist. I can't say no to that, and you know it" Enrique stated with a stern look, not giving Jenna a chance to say another word.

With a grunt Jenna whispers to herself "Here goes nothing" and exits the car. Another set of cameras are now trying to capture Jenna and her outfit for the afterparty, looking at the entrance, she saw Y/N rolled her eyes, Jenna thought "The fucking nerve of this girl t roll her eyes"

Now that they are in the same vicinity again, the paparazzi wasted no time and asked for a picture of them together, which they don't say no, since they don't want to cause another issue.

Y/N greeted Jenna with an open arm and huge smile, when Jenna got situated next to Y/N, she heard the other girl say "Are you stalking me?" which made Jenna look at the girl, with the heels that she is wearing, she stepped on Y/N's toe that made Y/N jerked in pain, with a worried voice Jenna said "Are you okay?"

With that, the security ushered the cameras away and assisted the both of them inside.

"DO you really need to step on me?" Y/N said, "Oh, I didn't mean to, really" Jenna answered, voice filled with sarcasm. Y/N have a deadpan look not believing what Jenna said "Yeah? You sure there?" Y/N said challenging Jenna, and that made Jenna smile "Of course not, I would do it again and again."

With that, Jenna left Y/N speechless. Y/N thought to herself "Is she that fucking angry at me? What did I even do to her?" and proceeded to enter the party and mingle with other artists.

The party actually went well for the both of them, avoiding each other like a plague, Y/N performing in the party and joining the DJ in the booth while Jenna tries to expand her connections and tries to know new faces.

Another hour have passed and Y/N was now taking a break from all the mingling and faking smiles and went to the bathroom, as if like faith is trying to take the both of them as a joke, she saw Jenna bending over the sink.

"Are you fine?" voiced laced with worry as Y/N walked slowly towards Jenna, "Don't come near me" Jenna said head still hanging low. Y/N stopped in her track and said "You are tipsy... or like drunk? You need to go home."

The statement made Jenna look at Y/N and said "What now, you're my mom now?" Y/N just rolled her eyes knowing that it is impossible to argue with a drunk Jenna. Y/N fished out her phone and texted someone, "Come on, I'll bring you to your hotel, can you tell me where it is?" Y/N asked while staying on her track.

"No, I won't go with you, I don't want to go with you can't you see that? Leave me alone" Jenna said trying to fix her make-up in front of the mirror, "Why not? You clearly can't walk straight I bet" Y/N said and chuckled. Jenna hates it, she hates that Y/N is right, that is why she is in the corner holding herself through the sink and not moving an inch because she knows she'll stumble with her drunk state and her heels so high.

Y/N take Jenna's silence as a cue to go to the other girl and support her. Jenna then said "We can't be seen going home together, I don't wanna be seen with you" It made Y/N's heart ache, is she that fucking bad in Jenna's perspective to the point that she doesn't want to be seen with her? Y/N just swallowed down the pain that she feels.

"Yeah, I messaged Enrique, he will meet us at the entrance and I'll make sure to not be seen with you." with a heavy sigh, Y/N supported Jenna to walk out of the bathroom through the crowd of people inside the party and into the entrance.

"Jenna, Enrique said he'll meet us at the front" Y/N notified and it made Jenna shakes her head "No... Y/N Nooooo" Jenna whined, it made Y/N chuckle, if she can have Jenna like this every time, not wanting to cut her throat, or sending sarcastic comments, she would make Jenna drink alcohol for as long as she wants, but she knows she can't.

But like their situation right now, Enrique can't really enter so they need to meet him in front.

"Jenna, I'm very sorry but we really need to meet him in front" Y/N said and telling to the security that they will go out of the establishment, which the security ushered them to.

Flashes of light welcomed them to the outside world, not far enough Y/N saw Enrique waiting for Jenna. "Thanks, I'm really sorry I can't meet you inside" Enrique said which Y/N answered "It's okay, take care, I'll be back inside"

___

"WE CAN SEE YOU: Jenna Ortega and Y/F/N Y/L/N seen going home together after the after party for the MET GALA"

Actress Jenna Ortega and Singer Y/F/N Y/L/N seen together leaving the after party hand in hand. But before this, they are also seen in the red carpet, fans capturing how the singer look at the actress. They have also been asked with questions pertaining to them being together but the both of them swam around the topic. Another photo of them was released mingling by the the bar inside the MET, having all smiles and flirting with each other.

Their fans have been speculating that they were together ever since High School and just kept it lowkey due to their reputation and their careers. The fans also tried to make sense of Y/N's released songs and connected it to the actress, which can somehow make sense, but we can't be for sure knowing that the singer also have a list of exes.

The fans and the media seemed to not disagree and hate their dynamic, instead they hope that what they speculate is real, knowing and seeing how beautiful they look together.

Stay tuned for the latest update towards our favorite couple, or may I say duo? Who knows, right?

______________________________________________________________

A/N: Hope you enjoy this new series, thoughts?

Chapter 2

[waokevale]

The Overlapped AU [Aka Superhumans disguisted as Dinner Theater workers]

The Owners

The Managers (Engineer & the HR person)

The Waiters

The Security

The Performers (Wes is mostly on cleaning duty though)

The Kitchen staff (the others are usually tasked to help, though very few are actually trusted at all times to be there)

The Bartender and the Host

The Dishwashers

The Clerk & The Supplier

So this AU came to me upon a dream, and I just had to make it real...

The synopsis below:

The event of April 17th 1906 does happen, however instead of Charlie and Maxwell being kidnapped into the Constant, the Constant overlaps with the real world and spreads itself onto Earth.

Charlie and Maxwell in the process become corrupted and have to hide away temporarily. Both of them soon began to hear strange voices, source of which neither is quite sure, telling them, compelling them to hide the corruption's effect from the publicity, for the time being.

They come to a mutual realization they have to fix this mess somehow and hunt down any and all corrupted by the tome, by any means necessary.

(Maxwell still has codex umbra, but it is sealed shut for the time being until he's sure it won't spread more if Their influence. )

But the corruption didn't just appear out of nowhere, it's been leaking way long before Maxwell found the Codex, if to a less prominent extent.

Thus, in few years passing, they form a Dinner Theater, a rather inconspicuous establishment from the first glance. Very quickly they began "hiring" employees, which in reality means tracking down and blackmailing those who have been corrupted but not fully lost themselves to its effects, in order to hunt those who had.

Winona was against the idea at first, as she found out. But seeing the effects of corruption first hand, she quickly had a change of heart and integrated herself into Charlie's new environment.

Eventually they gathered a rather generous amount of people. Once a person's proven to be trustworthy to a point, they're give higher positions in the company.

However those who aren't, are likely to be shunned or "fired" which...you could probably guess what that means.

Many of these people gradually come to terms with the reality of their situation and accept their newfound purpose, being thankful that at least they still have a roof over their head and a warm meal, instead of being viewed as monsters or outcasts to the greater society.

(Wilson though, can't quite accept this notion. He keeps claiming that "this is just a big misunderstanding, I'm just a normal guy!" Yet the truth could be far from it.)

When Maxwell and Charlie hear of the danger looming, they immediately inform their "staff" of the matter. Those who are more experienced in combat come along to face whatever opponent may cross them, while those who aren't, stay behind, to be an additional aid or a medic in case the battle gets too intense.

Whenever any suspicion arises in the town about the shady business going on in that particular building, the two owners alongside their employees practically gaslight anyone and everyone into believing they're but the most regular entertainment center.

The characters who have either willingly or unwillingly lost their humanity, mostly in the physical sense, are given special devices constructed of Thulecite and bits of nightmare fuel (made by Winona, Wicker and the main two), which effectively hide away their true identity, or surpress the effects of their ailment.

There's also a few other people important to this story, especially the One, which even Charlie and Maxwell refer to as "The Boss", though what many most recent hires don't know, is that there's someone who's in a position much higher than the owners themselves, controlling their every move.

Correlating to that, another person, or rather, a set of people per se, working for a much different cause. Though most of them are "people" in only a visual sense of the word.

And while, there might be someone inside the well-known around town diner, who just might be more than what appears on the surface, literally and metaphorically this time.

__________

If you're interested to learn more about this AU, do let me know. If you have any questions, I'm happy to hear and answer them!

[hypostatic-oath]

Hydro Archon, Hydro Archon, Don't Cry

I've noticed a pattern with 5star characters in my game - they only come home after I've done their story quest or at least the Archon Quest where they appear. From an in-game perspective it's obviously because it takes me a while to finish the quest and I raise the pity in the meantime, however... from a SAGAU perspective, it's adorable that they only come around after I've spent the time to get to know them better.

Content Warnings: Angst, Furina desperately needs a hug.

SPOILERS FOR 4.2 BELOW

Imagine Furina before the Archon Quest. She's holding it together, like she has been for five hundred years. She's been performing her role so well for so long, yet she feels like she's already gone beyond her limit. She doesn't know how long she can handle doing this for, but she knows she must.

Late at night, she takes a break to catch some air. She's aware that she's still performing - she's alone, but she cannot risk lowering her mask, even before an invisible audience. She takes a deep breath and looks up, and doesn't even feel the tears flowing down her face.

A shimmering light crosses the sky.

Foçalors, it beckons. Come home.

Oh no. Not this. She's not ready, she's not ready! Not tonight. She tells herself she'll answer your summons tomorrow. In truth, she doesn't feel worthy of answering. What if she's not what you expect?

That isn't even a question. She knows she's not what you expect.

She knows you have other Archons - real Archons - among your Vessels. She panics - she doesn't even have a Vision, much less an Archon's authority. There's only so much she can achieve with acting. What would she do when you took her out on the battlefield and she inevitably failed?

Come on... Another shooting star crosses the sky, your voice a faint, ethereal whisper in her ears. I need an Archon team...

It fills her with dread. She can't answer your summons! She absolutely can't! Not only would she disappoint you - because there's no way she wouldn't, surely, she can't imagine a world in which you are not disappointed once you figure out just what she is, a fraud who can't even use Hydro much less be the literal Archon - she'd also jeopardize her only purpose.

She rushes inside, back to her room, closes the shutters and the window and the curtains and almost leaps into bed, placing the covers over herself as if to shield herself from the world.

She can still hear you calling.

The next day, Poisson is struck. The prophecy is in full swing. She's frantic, searching for something, anything that could possibly help. All the while maintaining the façade. At least you seem to have given up.

It's both relieving and heartbreaking.

At night, she doesn't even risk it - her windows are kept shut. She analises every report, and locks her door when she notices that she's crying, the papers she's holding becoming dotted with tears that fall despite her best efforts. She can hear the rain hitting her window, and the downpour has her feeling even more hopeless.

Neuvillette speaks with her in the following morning. If the pressure from you wasn't enough, she now also has to manage to assure the Hydro Dragon Sovereign that she has everything under control. It's funny, how those eyes capable of such gentleness seem to gaze into her without a shred of mercy. Just speaking to him now feels like she's been put on trial, and Furina knows, deep down in her soul, that she is guilty.

He presses. Poisson has fallen. She knows. She also knows she's likely crying, the mask is slipping, but she can't give up. She has no right - no right at all, to sacrifice the lives of every person in Fontaine for the sake of her comfort. She cannot afford to slip up. And that means she cannot trust anyone - not you, and not Neuvillette. So she gathers the little control she can at this time, tells him she knows exactly what she's doing, and dashes out the door.

Wait, Furina!

She barely hears your voice as she runs. "I'm sorry, but I can't answer!" She thinks, as she rushes to the top floor of the Palais Mermonia. She knows she gas no time to lose. She needs to get herself in check, to wipe away her tears, to figure something out. Where had she gone wrong? Five hundred years, searching for a solution. Five hundred years of observing every trial, hoping it'll finally be the one she needs. But nothing.

She has nothing, and Poisson has fallen.

She thought the Traveler - and you, by extension - would be the key. That by judgding them she'd have the "most magnificent trial" that her mirror self spoke of. And yet, at every turn, the blonde outlander had managed to evade being sentenced, or even making the trial as grand as she'd expected. She paces around in her room as she mulls it over. Should she had judged you directly? Could she have done so? That would've been a trial for the ages - the Overseer, brought to justice by the Hydro Archon of Fontaine, for the crime of... what could she even accuse you of? Posessing people's bodies? That had to be illegal - or at least immoral enough to warrant a trial...

She lets her body flop onto the bed, covering her eyes with one arm as she lets out a sigh that despite its overdramatic appearance, is in fact incredibly genuine. She's tired. So tired.

Foçalors, come home.

Furina buries her face beneath one of the pillows. She hopes it'll drown out the sound of your voice. She can't distinguish whether that ache in her chest is from your summons growing more insistent or from how much she needs to cry.

The shooting star turns golden outside the window, and Furina wonders if the fact that someone else intercepted it will be enough to dissuade you. She hopes it is, otherwise, her days are numbered.

No more stars cross the sky that night, and relief washes over her body, in a wave so intense that she once again doesn't notice the tears. She falls asleep like that, and dreams of rising waters.

Furina heads to the Opera Epiclese in the morning. She's not looking forward to seeing Neuvillette, but she prays that there'll be a trial. "Please," she thinks, as she sits down in the throne reserved for the Hydro Archon, observing the stage from on high, "let it be today."

It isn't. Instead of a trial, there is a performance... and though she usually loves them, now is not the time. Worse yet, she's spotted by the crowd as she's getting ready to leave. They're angry, of course they are. The prophecy is true, and what is their Archon doing? Furina performs as best as she can, but this time the audience is completely unreceptive. She doesn't blame them. She'd be angry, too, in their shoes. She knows they're terrified. She's terrified, too.

But what can she do? Her search has turned up empty. She has no powers, not really, none besides the power of persuasion and even that seems to be slipping more and more these days. She cannot reassure her people. Neuvillette no longer trusts her, if he ever did. The water rises every day with no signs of stopping.

"Why, mirror-me? Where am I failing?"

The crowd chases her out of the theater. Neuvillette is nowhere in sight, and even if he were, Furina isn't sure she could call upon him now. The time in which he acted as her shield if gone. Neuvillette is now just another of the many she's disappointed.

It hurts.

With no other choice, she runs - as far as her legs will take her, she dashes away from the crowd, and guilt tells her she's being a coward. That she needs to stand up and reassure the masses, that she needs to do what an Archon would at that time.

The notion feels almost ridiculous. She cannot command her element freely like Barbatos, or raise protections over her city like Morax. She cannot threaten to strike down the unruly like the Shogun, nor does she have Lesser Lord (Lesser Lord! Hah! Even someone known as 'Lesser' is leagues beyond Furina's ability) Kusanali's foresight and wisdom.

So she does what she can do.

Whether it is fate or simply her own feelings of guilt, she finds herself in Poisson, at the base of the Spina di Rosula. The place where all those people - her people - had lost their lives to a disaster she was supposed to prevent.

When the Traveler extends their hand, she doesn't know whether it is a blessing or a curse. She wants to run again - what else can she do? But her pursuers are apparently still giving chase, and the outlander offers her aid. She can feel your presence from within them - every time she's crossed paths with them, as brief as those moments were, you were there. She can tell that the longing in the blonde's eyes is, at least in part, yours.

She's sorry.

She follows the Traveler to the hiding place - someone's home? It seems irrelevant. For a moment, she wonders if she could sue you for invasion of private property. "Oh, what am I thinking? The time for the grand trial is over... and even if it weren't, suing the Overseer for something so trivial would warrant the same result as the first time I challenged the Traveler..."

The Traveler. The outlander whose presence preceeded disaster. They were known for solving it, sure, but she knew that the moment they set foot in Fontaine the prophecy would have already started. Was it their fault, or yours?

Furina still feels like it might be hers.

The Traveler offers help once again. They extend their hand, and the look in their eyes as they ask her to confide in them is so earnest, so genuine. She swars she can hear two sets of voices saying the words - the Traveler's, and yours. It's faint, and gentle, and pained, and carries a yearning she knows she cannot fix.

Through them, you reach for her and she almost breaks. She knows you'll stop reaching once you know the truth.

Furina, please. You can trust us, love. Let me- let us help. People from your world cannot know, but neither of us fit that criteria. Your people will not dissolve, I promise you. I've seen enough worlds to know.

She considers it.

She hears your voice, and considers it. But there is uncertainty in your tone. You're gambling, and she's a good enough actress to know you're not sure yourself. They wouldn't do it, that's your reasoning. Furina doesn't know who 'they' are, but you're placing all your bets on the fact that 'they' would not erase an entire Nation. Who are 'they'? Celestia? If so, she knows for certain that your wager is more optimistic than based on facts. It's not enough - blind optimism is not enough for her to risk it, not even from a being like you. Besides, that is not her choice to make.

She cannot give up. She cannot lower her guard. Not with Neuvillette, not with the Traveler, not with you. The Traveler urges her for a response, reaches out, and she's about to deny them, when the house's walls fall.

Damn it, we needed more time! Furina, I'm so sorry.

She feels your sorrow about at the same time that she feels the spotlight on her.

Neuvillette looks down from his seat as the Chief Justice, and somehow the sliver of pity in his eyes hurts more than the coldness of a few days prior.

She's on trial.

________

She's crying.

She's not even making an effort to conceal it anymore. It's over. The curtains have closed and everything she worked so hard for has crumbled. The people know. Neuvillette knows. You know. Furina makes no effort to hear your voice. She knows you're disappointed.

If she did, perhaps she'd hear how you're screaming at the Traveler to go check on her. If she did, perhaps she'd hear how despite everything, you're reaching out, still. How you wish to hold her tight, as she deserves. She'd perhaps hear your outrage at the thought of her being subjected to the death sentence, she'd hear you trying to tear Neuvillette apart for allowing it, she'd hear you slowly realising that the fact that the sentence is addressed to the Hydro Archon means it's not her who dies.

She doesn't witness your relief.

Instead, it is you who gain an understanding of her thoughts. The Traveler reaches for her, and she can feel you pushing through, but she can't stop performing. Even now, she's still holding it, as much as she can.

You tear through her defenses with more ease than she expected. Furina had, until now, thought of you as detached. She knew you saw the world as a stage, a story for your amusement. Sure, you liked them, but only to the extent that one likes characters in a play, right? You were, as far as she knew, exactly the type of god - or, er, entity? - she emulated. Fickle. Boastful. Using lives as entertainment, watching trials and tribulations like a performance and solving the Nations' troubles like nothing more than a game. She had not expected you to care.

Not about her.

Not after knowing the truth.

You push forward. She knows it's you, and not the Traveler, who's in control. She can feel it, the intensity with which you reach out is the same she felt tugging at her very being every time a star crossed the sky. She knows it's you who's still trying to reach her. Even if she's failed.

Even if she's not capable of being in your Archon Team.

So she sighs, and lets you witness. That is your role, after all, isn't it? An audience of one, watching an interactive play. You haven't given up on her character, even though it's not what you expected. You're not what she expected, either. Funny, she finds herself thinking, you're both more human than anyone realised.

You witness her life. She lets it play out like a film before your eyes, the endless stream of memories of growing hopelessness as she realised that the prophecy was slowly setting itself up and she was not any closer to finding out how to stop it. Now you know - the truth, the whole truth. She has nothing left to lose now, anyway. Everything is lost. She was unmasked. She failed.

You're pushed out of her thoughts after she invites you to take your place on stage. You act in her memory, but this time the Traveler doesn't speak. You barely have time to state your piece - all you manage is an I'm sorry before being forced away. She has nothing more to share. That is enough, she figures, and far more than she ever thought she'd share. She still feels the urge to cry, but part of it is from relief.

After that, she doesn't feel your presence until after the flood.

The prophecy comes and goes and Fontaine is unharmed. The flood lasts no more than minutes, and no one is dissolved. Furina remembers your words - 'they' wouldn't do that. Though she is unsure as to 'their' identity, she is thankful that you were right. The sunlight feels like bliss upon her skin as she steps out of the Opera Epiclese, gentle rays drying the remaining water from the streets and the tears on her cheeks, and for the first time in five hundred years she breathes easy.

"They're still hoping you'll come." A familiar voice pulls her out of her trance. The Traveler, alone, stands behind her. Your presence is nowhere near. They look the same, yet different, without you within. Furina can't quite explain it, but it feels odd after being so used to seeing you within the outlander.

"I'm not an Archon." She answers, a certain bitterness in her voice as she looks down, defeated.

"I don't think they care. I know you need to rest for now, and they don't have enough primos for a ten pull anyways, but... just so you know. They'll keep trying."

Furina doesn't quite know whether that is meant as a warning or as an opportunity presenting itself. They're gone before she can ask. Either way, they're right - she is tired, and she does need rest. Out of instinct, she heads to the Palais Mermonia, but stops herself as she reaches for the door.

"Lady Furina." The gentle, deep voice she knows as belonging to the Iudex pulls her from her thoughts. She doesn't dare look him in the eye. He opens the door for her, but she simply turns away. She cannot face him, not after that trial, not after everything she'd done.

"Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette. But I... I think I'll be going, now."

The now fully restored Hydro Dragon can only watch as Furina walks away. He knows she needs her space right now, but that doesn't stop him from worrying for her. He'll arrange the best apartment he can get for her, and make sure she never lacks for anything. In the meantime, though, he'll just try not to let his emotions get the best of him, lest he causes a downpour to fall upon poor Furina, who definitely does not need rain right now. If there is one thing he knows about humans is that rain does not, for the most part, cheer them up. So he holds it in, promising himself that he'll take a small break for a walk after the aftermath of everything is over, and heads to his office.

There is so much to do...

_________

Three weeks pass. Furina lays on her bed, her window open, the soft breeze bringing the smell of a night that promises rain into the apartment. She is busy, not with work, or with renovations, but with the azure glass sphere that she holds up to the light, examining it under her lamp. A Vision... during all those years, she had never thought she'd receive such a thing, much less after being pushed away from her role as the Archon. She is thankful, yes, for her newfound freedom, and, she supposes, for the fact that she'd gotten to act again. But it still remains that this bauble was completely unexpected.

Power. This little thing can give her power. She's still unsure on how to use it, and it crosses her mind that the Traveler - or you - might know. You owe her, after all, after what she did to help you out with the play... she could feel you trying to strangle the Traveler and Paimon on the astral plane and that was perhaps why she wasn't entirely offended by their remarks. Still, she had made a great effort for that play. It was only fair that at least one of you repays the favor, no?

Furina smiles softly, sighing. She'll have to put up a commission at the Guild tomorrow.

She examines the light reflecting within, and it reminds her of the surface of the sea as seen from underwater. The holder, a silvery ornament not unlike those she's seen worn by Vision-bearers, has a distinct characteristic - four fang-like details that seem to secure the glass in place. Before she can give it more thought, the first pitter patter of raindrops reaches her ears, and she rushes to retrieve the clothes hanging on the line she has in the small balcony of her apartment before they get too wet. She rushes outside, hearing as the rain and wind pick up.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it..." She mutters to herself, quickly shoving the clothes onto a basket, trying to pick them off the line as fast as she can. Behind her, a flash of light illuminates the night sky. "Oh, I am so not in the mood for thunder..."

Furina cringes, hoping the storm is not directly above. Maybe she'll be able to sleep if it's just a faraway rumbling. What she hears, however, is not the booming sound of a storm.

Furina. Come home.

You're still trying. For a moment, she forgets about the heavy rain, and the clothes, and simply looks up at the sky. Blue flashes, one after the other, cross the clouds in rapid succession. Even after everything, you hadn't given up. The Traveler had warned her, but at the time she hadn't been in a stable enough state of mins to even care, still shaken from everything that had happened.

Now, she simply looks up.

"Overseer." She answers. You won't be able to add her to the 'Archon Team'. She knows she's not as powerful as most of your Vessels - hell, she doesn't even know how to use her Vision yet. But you still want her.

You know the truth - the whole truth - and you still want her.

The next star that crosses the sky turns gold, and glows brighter and brighter until it lands in front of her, hovering above the railing on her balcony. It emits a soft, warm light, and Furina reaches for it like she'd reached for her Vision.

Warmth spreads over her body, and it feels like every time she'd looked at the Traveler with you in them, except everything feels more... intense. It's not like she's seeing the filtered bits of you that shine through the cracks in someone else, no. She can feel you directly, and she understands why they call it 'coming home'. It's warm. It's comfortable. And for the first time she can truly, honestly say she doesn't feel alone.

You're happy she's there. Time seems to stop around her, and she finds herself dry and in a field full of stars. If she squints, she can barely make out a form, a swirling swarm of stardust in the vague shape of a person. She reaches a hand out.

You place the cursor over her outstretched hand.

Welcome home, Furina.

[elryuse]

yandere ex girlfriend sohee?

MY CRAZY EX GF, IS DRIVING ME INSANE

YANDERE EX-GF SOHEE X MALE READER

Y/n was just an ordinary college student until he met Sohee, a dazzling K-pop idol whose beauty and charm captivated him from the moment they crossed paths. Even though Y/n was just an Ordinary College Student... Sohee somehow found him cute and unique from the rest.. This made Sohee really excited and started to approach him whenever she has the chance.

"Wow you are really cute.. What's your name"?

"Uhmm I'm Y/n. Lee Y/n.. You're that famous idol right? Sohee if I'm correct"?

"Bingo.. So do you want my autograph or maybe a picture"?

"Uhmm how about a phone number? Is that cool"?

" *Chuckle* You're funny Y/n... Alright then.. Here is your reward... XXX-XXXXXX_XXX".

"Wow... Is this for real"??

"Let's catch up later... Bye bye *wink* ".

After calling her up and starting to actually know Sohee better.. Y/n actually kinda feels like She was the one for him... He started to pay more and more attention for her, Missing out on some classes just to watch her performance.. And giving her all the best support he could ever give.

But one day... Sohee Cheated on Y/n. Which devastated him mentally and physically. He trusted Sohee with all of his life, he even almost gave up his college degree for her. And this is how she's repaying his time and effort? Y/n wanted Sohee to apologize, To feel ashamed to actually be responsible for their Relationship. But she never did.

Sohee Chooses her new "partner" Over Y/n. Which devastated him even more. But eventually Y/n moved on from her.. He started to pay more attention to his studies and started to actually be a pretty good college student.

"Sohee why the fuck are you sleeping with him? And why won't you answer my calls"?

"I'm tired... You're just not enough for me.. I needed something that you can't ever fulfill Y/n".

"Please.. I love you... I would have done anything for you Sohee.. For us.. So please tell me why".

"My friends keep telling me that you look boring... And I started to see it too.. You're to young.. And I'm basically 6 years older than you... So please.. Just go home.. Don't ever see me again".

"What!? That's it? You're gonna let me go, Just like that"??

"You're nothing to me Y/n. You never did.. ".

"Wow.. Just wow.. All this time... I've sacrificed all of my time... I guess.. I was too dumb to believe you.. ".

On the other side... Sohee has been treated like trash by her new "partner" Of hers. Her new partner was abusive, and liked to play with random girls around him. Sohee even found out that Her friends actually slept plenty of time with her new "partner" Which saddened Sohee even more.

Sohee finally realized in those moments, Just how hurtful it feels. To be betrayed by the person you trust the most. She started to regret her decision and started crying in her large penthouse. Sohee cried at the thoughts of actually staying in the relationship with Y/n. How happy she would be, Especially having a trustworthy Partner as Y/n.. Remembering the memories actually made Sohee chuckled little by little.

She remembered how he was very clumsy when he was cooking a dish for dinner. And would often burn his finger, Sohee would always take care of him and they would laugh the night away in Y/n small apartment. Remembering the memories made her even desperate to have him back. So She decided to call Y/n multiple times.

But he would never answer...

This made Sohee even more desperate... And in those desperate times, She realized the power that she had.. She's rich and has a powerful connection in this business world. She took the chance by forcing her way into Y/n's Life as possible as she can.

She would often sabotage Y/n's Workplace. By buying the ownership of the building (Office). Which means she could actually see Y/n all day long. But not long after that Y/n would leave this job and search for a new job. But Sohee never gave up... Her mind is only filled with how much she needs him... How desperate she is to actually be with him again.

And so, Day by day, Month by month. Sohee started to stalk Y/n. Y/n who feels that something was wrong immediately tried to look for the source of the inconvenience that he felt. But he didn't realize sooner that, His Crazy Ex Girlfriend would do some mad shit to own him again. To actually be his again..

She bombarded Y/n with gifts, love letters, and apologies, refusing to take no for an answer. Which creeps the living shit out of him. She would often knock on his apartment door, Ring the bell and would even stand on the other side of the room, Waiting for an answer from Y/n. In the end Sohee forces Y/n to meet her face to face. She forced his parents to actually accept her marriage letter... Which shocked Y/n to death. Since Y/n Can't do anything... He is now once again in the grasp of Sohee...

As soon as they got married, Sohee's obsession only intensified. She isolated Y/n from his friends and family, ensuring that he was completely dependent on her for validation and affection.

Terrified of losing Y/n again, Sohee resorted to extreme measures to keep him by her side. She sabotaged his job interviews, manipulated his social media accounts, and even went as far as to threaten anyone who dared to come between them.

And Just Like that... Y/n's free will was taken by force by Sohee... He was now an empty shell of a man that was once happy and cheerful. He's now stuck in the grasp of a Crazy Wife... Who would never ever let him go...

"You're mine forever Y/n...".

[seventhcallisto]

Chapter 111 — "meet me halfway."

—Deep Down.

Toc/cw: I want to apologize for the title, but I'm not going to *evil cackling*. Reader is oblivious fr. I love karaoke, you love karaoke, we all love karaoke. Cringe karaoke scene, but idc, karaoke is sexy. You can not tell me ateez doesn't love to be coddled and loved on. suggestive, kissing, yes. kissing. This chapter is all over the place I apologizeeeeee.

A lot of things can happen in the span of two weeks. You know that more than anyone. The boys aren't mad. For some reason, they aren't upset with you either. You want to ask why, but you like the way things have almost gone back to normal. Almost.

It's a week before your heat. You don't think about the effects that are gonna start taking place soon.

Consistently, mingi takes over your bed almost every night and is back in his by the morning. When you ask why, he gets embarrassed. "Can't i sleep in your bed?" You don't know if he gets up because someone keeps kicking him out, or it's just mingi wanting to give you space. You dont live in mingis' mind, so you'll never know. You share the left side with him. It smells just like mingi, lots of mingi, so much so you have the hintest smell of him on you in the morning, sea salt and jasmine. He also moves way too much, yet he somehow never kicks you.

If you happen to wake up in the middle of the night, you will definitely find him with his arm over your head, and you tucked into his chest. If you can, you'll scoot over before he notices. And by the time you wake up, he'll be gone.

Luckily enough, you're the only one with a single room. Everyone else has to share.

You rub your tired eyes stepping out of your bedroom. The sun glares around the living room right across from your door. You take your time walking over to the couch where jongho, wooyoung, and yunho stare at the screen. Each of their eyes shift to you as soon as you pop up from the side of it.

Bed hair, pajamas, and all of it in-between. You don't even flinch. They've seen you like this plenty of times before. There's not much room, so you take a spot on the carpeted floor. "What are you doing?" Wooyoung whines, leaning over jonghos' lap to pull at your shirt. Jongho looks used to him doing that, but he stares along with yunho at you. "I'm sitting," you pout back, pushing his hand off, not yet fully awake.

"Get on the couch, don't sit on the floor!" He leans further, tugging on you some more, his lip juts out, showcasing his true displeasure at the idea of you sitting on the floor. "No," you turn away, pulling out of his grip. You lay on the white carpet, arm tucked under your head. Wooyoung harshly whispers to himself. You know he's probably cursing at you for being stubborn.

It's the big break before the agonizingly long comeback. Actually, thanks to you, the deadline has been pushed back to accommodate the time off for your heat. The media doesn't know that. They only know you are still getting medically evaluated. You miss being okay enough to perform. You'll get that chance as soon as this is all over. And then you'll show them a real performance.

A heavy weight begins pressing on you, and you huff out your air, turning towards the couch. Slowly, wooyoung had crawled all the way over jongho(again, jongho doesn't flinch), and now he's lowering himself over you. Squishing you with his full weight.

On his back is a white blanket. He wraps it around you both. You have to turn on your hip and lay on your back so he doesn't crush you sideways in an awkward plank. "Woo," you groan. "You're crushing me," you pant out, pushing on his chest. He's got the sneakiest of grins on his lips. You're leveled at his chin. His leg falls over your hips, caging you in between his hoodie clad body and the grey sweat shorts he's wearing.

"I told you to get on the couch," he says matter-of-factly, resting on his palm that folloes his elbow right next to your head. This is very wooyoung to do to you, crush you with his body weight, and tease you mercilessly. You pout. "I didn't want to get on the couch" you squint your eyes at him.

"And I didn't want to get on the floor," he sighs, smiling through his pout. His head falls over you. His chin tucks you into his chest. You've escaped this hold before, but you are still tired, and wooyoung is a furnace compared to the cold wood that soaks through the carpet and nips at your back. Your singular arm that you can wiggle out wraps around his strong waist and sits on his back hips. The exposed skin there gets to you, and the closeness of his neck scent glands makes you want to sink further into him.

You rub soothing circles on his hip, unconsciously. Wooyoung takes a deep breath, the air from his nose hitting you on the top of your head. The TV is what everyone's attention is on. Yunho chews whatever snack he's gotten a hold of from the kitchen, jongho tucks himself into the free space wooyoung left. And you and wooyoung are taking synchronized breathes.

All is well in the stillness of the morning.

Touchy, touchy lately are you and all of the guys. Even yeosang. Especially yeosang. Which - wow, really? Yeosang? Yes. Yeosang.

The practice room floor is another area you find yourself lying on randomly. You've caught up on all of your moves and anything you needed to drill into memory. At this point, you're just waiting for everyone to catch up. You watch them through the mirror, the echoing of the music thumping off the floor. Yeosang takes a seat next to you. He sits criss cross, leaning on his hands. His green and black hair frames his face.

You scoot up to place your head on his thigh, curling into his side. Your phone is in hand. Yeosang pushes it to the side with the back of his fingers, getting your attention. You look up to him. His smile is small. You know that look he has when he has a question to ask.

".. Where'd you go the first day after your heat?"

And there it is, surprisingly, yeosang is boldly asking. You turn into him further, sliding your phone down into your sweater. You bury your face into him. Mumbling into his shirt. "What?" He asks, grabbing the back of your head. His hand palms your stray hairs down. He didn't hear what you said.

"I went to the girls.." You grumble, peeking for his reaction. If he had one, you couldn't tell. Yeosangs hand falls into a rhythm, patting and brushing your hair down. He pulls a piece of hair behind your ear, blinking down at you nonchalantly.

"Did you.." yeosangs words fall out. He takes a deep inhale. "Did you call on them?" He whispers, his hand trails to your back. You shake your head quickly, "No.. no," you sigh, closing your eyes. "Actually, I didn't know who to call.. Ghostbusters?" You laugh at your own pathetic joke, yeosangs smile brightens up, a small huff of laughter as well. You turn to lean on your back, pushing his green hair behind his own ear.

"I didn't know who to call on." You repeat, your hands fall to your chest. "Hook up culture scares me, and I'd rather bite my tongue off," you laugh, he smiles. Yeosangs smile is something you'll never get used to, never get sick of. If only you knew he felt the same way about your smile. "Not a fan either," he mumbles. His spread out hand rests on your stomach. You take his palm in your own, wrapping both of your hands around it, and you turn back on your side facing him.

He watches you fiddle with his fingers, pressing them against your own. You hear him inhale before he goes to speak. San cuts him off, with the smack of his palm against yeosangs shoulder. He takes his place by your hip. He pulls your legs onto his lap, holding them flush to his waist. The bend is awkward until you shift back onto your back. "Done already?" You tease, looking at the way sweat drips from his forehead.

"Done? We're just getting started," he laughs.

You love karaoke. Especially on nights like this. Where all the guys aren't extremely tired and willing to put up with mingi, you, and wooyoung begging for it. Especially you. Most definitely you. You love getting your way. Sparkling mic in hand, swaying to the funky but loveable beat of the early 2000s.

"Can you meet me halfway? Meet me halfway." You belt, leaning into it. Laughter consumes you. You take the stage in front of the led screen by yourself even though it's a duet. You know the english lyrics like the back of your hand, but the guys don't. So you're solo on this one.

The rap is your specialty. You put your own spunk on it, swaying your hands and hips to the beat. The all familiar urge to run your hand all the way down yourself to emphasize your deep feelings for the lyrics. The sweats hongjoong gave you to wear hang low on your hips.

"Right at the borderline is where I'm gonna wait- for you -" You point at the guys on the couch, piled up and cheering you on. All eyes once again fall on you, but you're still in your own little world. You're so very grateful you do this for a living. You miss touring. You sway back and forth, getting into the groove.

Your hips follow their own path, and you'd surely have a career in belly dancing with the hip control you have. You lean over, singing into the mic.

"I want you so bad- it's my only wish." You finish off, with twenty seconds of instrumentals you decide to just dance the rest away. Back and forth, you twirl and fall into a rhythm. Eyes closed. The led lights from the tv shape you out perfectly. Swaying back and forth because you're kinda embarrassed that you got so into it.

You take a deep breath, the mic falling to your side as you hold it in your hand. You lean back, looking over your shoulder for the killing pose. You don't even mention the stares. When you bow, everyone seems to shake out of their trance, cheering loudly to the point you know there will be noise complaints.

"Thanks. I'll be here all night!"

You pass the microphone off to wooyoung. Stealing his spot on the squished couch, San is on your left, and on his left is yeosang. On your right is hongjoong, and on his right is yunho. San slips closely, his thigh presses into yours, and you wiggle out of the squish zone. When you do, you semi-slip onto his lap. His hip holds your leg up to the point that you have to shift your other leg under you to get comfortable. You try but fail.

"San, scoot over." You huff, he stops talking to yeosang and turns towards you. He tries buts its no use, yeosang even attempts to help, he gives up though and covers his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. There's no more room on the couch, "sorry" san laughs, "wow, laughing at my misery, thanks" you try to lift your hips, struggling through the cushions and trying to avoid accidently smacking someone with your elbow. San is scooting the best he can, denying your claim with a pout. Wooyoungs voice begins with mingis, an energetic song they scream and laugh to.

"Here," san grabs you, his fingers spread over your waist and hips. He spreads his legs so you can sit between them. He lifts you like you weigh absolutely nothing. You try to help, but he's just moving you and himself to the point that you both are comfortable. He scoots flush to the couch, giving you as much room as possible so you dont squish or rub up against his.. Bits, you're assuming. It's comfortable enough that you don't have to worry about falling off the edge, but just to be safe, you lean back into Sans chest.

"Better?" He asks, his head falling over your shoulder, his breath fans your neck, pulling a slight shudder out of you. His thick arms tighten around your waist just under your boobs. You laugh, trying to ease the tension in your stomach, turning towards him. "we need a bigger couch," he laughs along, leaning over you, now watching wooyoung and mingi sing. San smells like white musk, wood, cedar, and earthy tones, deceitfully, there is the scent of dark chocolate under all of it. You lean into his shoulder, letting your head rest against it. His neck is right next to you, one slight turn, and you could kiss it.

You wiggle a bit, sans sharp breath next to your ear, makes you clear your throat. "Sorry." You lean forward, his hands move down to encircle your waist. Pulling you back. "It's fine, just.. don't move, please," he hushly says, squinting his eyes, his throat bobs when he swallows thickly. His cheeks are dusting pink from the corner of your eyes. The rest of the guys' hollering serves as background noise. Sans scent is a little heavier, but you can't tell if it's because you're so close. The deep chocolatey undertone makes your mouth salivate. You swallow it down. Sans hands are tight against you, pushing you as close as you can get, chest-to-back wise.

His left hand slowly slips down to your thigh. It perks there as if he's waiting for your approval. In front of everyone, distracted or not, San is showing a lot more affection than you know what to do with. You freeze when his breath fans your neck. His chin digging into your shoulder.

He's quickly ripping himself away from you. You jump when he begins clapping, hooting at their finished bow. Mingi lays on the floor spread out, and you laugh to ease the tension wracking your body. When did mingi even get on the floor? He pants and yells a jumble of words. Wooyoung pats his knee and walks back over. "I'm done," he says seriously, shaking his head. He takes his water off the table next to the couch on yeosangs' side.

He slips his muscular thighs onto your lap whilst he lays his whole body weight on yeosang. You stroke your fingers over the ever-growing patch of hair on his thigh, and wooyoung looks at you from the corner of his eyes. You can't distinguish the emotion on his handsome features. "Movie time?" Hongjoong asks, bringing your attention to him when he pats your arm.

For whatever reason, he's asking you specifically. "Yea, who's picking?" You ask, looking up at the taller alpha. His lip sticks out in thought. "You always have the best choices." You shake your head. "That's not true," you mumble, lips curling into a pout.

"Everyone here has good choices.. Oh! Let's all put a paper in a hat"

After coming out of his shared room, jongho won the draw, and because of it, he's pronounced as the winner of the night. He takes you with him on the couch, letting you curl into his side. His arm falls over your forearm, you have his hand in your own hands, his other arm props his head up on his fist. You lean almost completely into him, resting your head on his shoulder-chest zone.

You can see how his eyes grow distant with sleepiness. He's pushing through, though. You silently turn your head to him, "You can go sleep," you whisper. His eyes flutter to you, and he inhales gently, pulling his head off his palm to look at you straight. "No." He shakes his head. "It's okay if you're tired, I can just make an excuse-" "I want to be with you tonight." He's silent even as you stare. The TV flashes across his face when he takes your eyes with his. He means what he said.

His tired eyes shift down your face, landing on your lips. "Will you sleep in my bed?" He sighs out, staring with the heaviness in his eyes he usually saves for performances. His boba eyes shift from each of your own pupils. You inhale a breath, pulling your lips into a shy smile. "Yeah, do you want me to bring my stuffies too?" You say to make him laugh, his lip pulls up into a grin. He finally closes his eyes and rubs his fingers near the inner tear duct of his left eye.

"You can bring whatever, as long as you're there, I'm happy." He mumbles sleepily. You smile, standing up from the couch and stretching.

Whatever this situation you're currently in, you don't know what kind of friends do this or make it seem so romantic and domestic. Jongho just wants you to be comfortable, but you want him to be comfortable. So now, with your blanket and your childish stuffed whale(a fan gave you), you stand on the left side of jonghos' small bed. Arguing with him.

Jongho, just tired. Takes the floor with his blankets and bean bag in hand. "When you said sleep in my bed, I thought -.." You flush at your own assumptions. You can't see jongho on the other side. You can only hear him when he talks, shuffling to get comfortable. He stops abruptly at your words. Whispering in the dark. "You want to lay together?"

His roommates, hongjoong and wooyoung, are still currently watching the movie. They know you two have slipped off to bed. You didn't tell them exactly what you were doing, though. Secretly going to have a sleepover in the room where three alpha men sleep at night, the musk in the room is insanely drowning. You try not to dabble on the specifics of the scents.

"Yes, .. well- i did" you bite your own tongue. God, you sound so desperate right now. Begging jongho to share his bed with you and to actually lay with him in it. "Nevermind -" you take back, jongho stops you. Popping up from the right side of his bed. His hair is messy, eyes wide, but then reserved. He clears his throat. Smoothing his hand over the blanket and getting on it.

You stare for a few seconds. "Well?" He asks, his ears are beginning to turn red as each second passes. You bite your smile. Shuffling onto the bed next to him, you fall right into his side. But try to subtly shuffle yourself under the duvet. You wiggle to get comfortable. Jonghos bed is comfortable yes, but with him next to you. You're starting to think it's heavenly.

Jongho shuffles awkwardly, trying not to bump into you while he sits atop the comforter. You begin laughing into the blanket, watching him struggle to be polite in the tight spot that is his own bed. You sit up, letting the blankets pool around your waist. You reach over the left side of the bed where you dropped your own blanket. Jongho leans over to catch your arm.

"Careful," he clicks his tongue, and you swiftly reach up and let the blanket cascade down on jongho. A fuzzy royal purple blanket a fan also made for you. It smells exactly like your omega scent. Jonghos eyes widen for a split second. He clears his throat, throwing it around him until it reaches his neck.

"Thank you," he says shyly. You smile, digging yourself into his duvet once again. Jongho has a blanket that smells just like you, and you're under jonghos' blanket that smells like him. You don't forget he's right next to you, taking over your senses. You face him while he faces the ceiling.

"Jongho?" You call quietly, he hums, eyes shut. You bite your lip, withholding your question. Should you ask him now? When the question could make things awkward? But this back and forth thing with all of them, is it really something you'll be able to deal with when the time comes to not have them with you? You really want to know, though. Want to know what he's thinking and what they're all thinking. And now that he's at his sleepiest and most compliant, you want to ask more than anything.

"About my heat.. " You sigh and breathe deeply. "Would you have helped if you had known? in the practice room?" You whisper. Jongho shifts in his spot. You can see his hand clench over the blanket, it's silent for two minutes.

"Yea," he finally sighs out. "I would, of course, anything you'd need.. I'd get for you in an instance.. you wouldn't have to wait." You hear his breathing deepen.

"I'd take care of you." His sleepy voice says in the dark of the room. Your eyes fall over him again. His chest rises and breathes deep, slow, methodical breaths. Was he.. Asleep?

"Jjongie?" You lean up to look at him, squinting to adjust to the dark. He's completely passed out. The confession was from pure exhaustion. You wonder if he'll remember it in the morning. Your heart thumps loudly in your ears.

You have more questions than answers, Yet how are you gonna get real answers from everyone else without making it terribly hard?

"Hongjoong," you laugh, pulling away from his tight grip, his fingers once again grip your sides. Dragging you along with him to his laptop, left open on the couch. "Just one minute of your time! Please!" He laughs out, calling your name in a chant. You've been avoiding feeding into hongjoongs overworking attitude, even when you guys are due to comeback and everything has been set in stone. He's still working. You don't even want to look at another screen of beats and codes and orange, red, blue blocks that distinguish what sound is which.

"I'm not going to be in the demo! We're supposed to be relaxing!" You scold, trying to grab his hands from your sides. "Please, you have the perfect set of vocals for it," he whines, begging for you to just say yes. "At least listen to it first. You know I value your opinion most." He lays it on thick, coercing you to say yes, he still tries to tug you away from your marching towards the kitchen.

You click your tongue, pushing at his hands again. "What's in it for me, huh?" You want a bribe. Holding onto the counter and anchoring yourself there. "Anything! I'll do anything!" He says quickly, jumping on the balls of his feet. Hongjoongs grasp is strong. You doubt he knows how hard his fingers dig into your sides. You throw your head back, turning in his grasp to look him in his eyes. "You said anything! No take backs!" You huff, pushing past him and sitting in his spot on the couch.

He follows right on your tail. He snatches the laptop off the spot and sits in it. Hongjoong fumbles with the headphones, slipping them onto your ears for you. You look at him, amused. He's ever eager to show you what he's been working on. "Intro," he gulps, moving his finger to click play.

The ever familiar distinction of beats and hums meet your ears. It changes, heavier this time. You can feel the rhythm in your bones, bopping your head along. You hold the headphones closer to your ears. Watching hongjoongs face to see what he's thinking, he stares at the laptop. Pushing on his lip with his tongue.

The rest of the song isn't as different. The beats change and mix up, but not so much so it's a complete change. When it's finished, hongjoong pauses. Looking up at you through his lashes. "So?" He asks. You smile, shaking your head as you slip the headphones off. "I like it"

The look in his eyes is familiar, the distinctive look of not thinking its enough. You've seen it plenty of times before in his eyes. And every time, he never takes what you say seriously. "I was thinking of switching the chorus with -" he rambles on. You watch him do so, listening silently. You hope he knows you're always listening to what he says. Your hand reaches out to his wrist, his hand stops clawing at the laptop.

He looks up, sighing heavily. "It's really good, hongjoong. I like the difference it has, the way things switch up." You say. Humming the beat back to him.

The sudden nostalgic feeling hitting you like a train drags you back to the memory of meeting hongjoong for the first time. When you barely knew a lick of Korean and he was trying his best to communicate to you about something he was working on. The first two trainees at KQ Ent. Communication was the hardest thing for you.

Hongjoong speaks in riddles to you. You don't know anything about South Korean traditions or mannerisms. Being here was impulsive, and the only person who could talk to you was the manager named jongsik. You nod along as if you get it, hongjoong moves papers off the desk he's at. Making some room for you. Young, immature you helps him do so, stacking the papers.

Once cleared off, hongjoongs chair bumps yours so he can grab the stack of papers you just organized. You hold onto the sides to balance it. He picks out sheets and shows them to you. Musical notes and hangul you can hardly read is messily scribbled on the page. You look up to him expectedly. His eyes shine back at you, locking you in the darkness of them.

He hums a tune under his breath, hoping you'll get it and follow it. You hum back, the same tune he just made.

Hongjoong looks down at your lips. He must have remembered the same fond memory you hold dearly. He hums the tune, eyebrows pulled taunt under the bangs of his brown hair. You smile at him. "It's perfect joong," you shut his laptop, taking it from his lap. He let's you, finally listening to what you say.

"You'll sing it then?" He asks, turning towards you. You run a hand down your arm, hiding the laptop behind you. "Mhm," you nod. Hongjoong smiles, going to reach behind you for his laptop.

You fall against the arm of the couch, caging it between you and the couch. "No, you can't have your laptop back - because! You promised!" You struggle against hongjoong attempting to pull it out from under you. He knees over you, placing it between your hip and the couch. "Let me check it real quick!" He whines, trying to dig his hands between your sides.

Theres a few seconds of you laughing at hongjoongs struggle and hongjoong huffing and laughing as well. Finally, he takes a deep inhale and laughs, his lips pulling into a grin. His hands are placed on either side of your head now as he leans over. "Okay, What's your wish?" he asks, huffing. His breath fans your face. Close in proximity.

"Uhm.." You pretend to think about it, placing your hands on his shoulders. You make eye contact, then look away. "I have .. a question," You mumble, pulling your hands off his shoulders. Hongjoong doesn't move from above you. He doesn't even notice what he's doing. Pressing his knee on the inner part of your left thigh whilst his other presses against your left hip, practically straddling you. You shuffle, pulling your left knee up. You lightly graze your knee against his stomach, just above the button on his jeans.

Hongjoongs throat bobs when he swallows dryly. His beautiful dark eyes look between your own otherworldly eyes. your hands fall on his forearms, glancing up at him. How do you ask what you need to ask? How?

"Can i kiss you?"

Your jaw falls slack, taking in a sharp breath. He's slowly turning pink around the ears. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, looking between your eyes and your lips. "What?" You whisper. He takes a shuttered breath.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks again, more quietly this time, you hear the fabric scrunch next to your head from under his hard grip. You inhale slowly. Looking down at his own plump lips. Everything in this moment is real. You can feel the heartbeat in hongjoongs arm from your firm grip pounding against your fingertips. Your eyebrows scrunch.

How long have you both been waiting for this?

You quiet his racing thoughts, pulling him down into you. That should be a good enough answer, you think. Your lips smack dab into his, melding perfectly. Like they were designed to be there. You tilt your head up to hongjoong while he tilts his down into you. Meeting you halfway. His hand pulls you up into him. Placed gently at the base of your neck. It's odd. The taste on hongjoongs lips is heavy with vanilla. When you move in tandem, the blend of pear tingles your taste buds. Hongjoongs other hand holds him up, and yours fall around his neck, coddling him closer.

Hongjoong nostrils flare as he inhales, the sound bubbling in his throat. He softly prods your top lip with his tongue. You part for him. Letting him explore the cavern that's your mouth. The soft sound he lets out has you responding with your own. Eyebrows crease forward. This is suffocating in all the best ways, leaning into his touch and having him and only him consume you right now. The anxiety of the question completely lifts in hongjoongs embrace.

You pull back to breath, and he follows for one more. Just one, pulling your sticky lip with his own one final time. You heave in his presence. Eyes softly opening. Hongjoongs eyes are heavy, full of adoration, and unspoken words. He stares down at you. His breathing evens out softly. You take each other in. Both dazed.

"Is this real?" He asks, breathing softly. His eyes glance between yours, begging for the truth. You nod. "It's real, we're real." Your hand caresses the back of his neck, playing with the hair there. Hongjoong makes a noise, a somewhat strangled one. His hands curl into your waist, pulling you into him completely, gently. His head falls into your neck as he sinks down onto you. Falling onto your leg. Like you've just drained his soul. "Good," he murmurs, kissing your shoulder softly.

You pull him just as close. The silence doesn't hurt you, and neither does he say anything for a solid minute. "You didn't ask your question," he laughs into your shoulder, gently fanning his breath across your most sensitive spot. You smile. "You answered it already," you say, brushing the hair on the nape of his neck down. He sighs into you.

"What does this change?" You whisper. He pulls back, looking down at you. His hand once again brushes under your head as his elbow props him up. "Everything and nothing," he shifts between your eyes, honestly speaking. "This can be whatever you want it to be" he finishes.

You shake your head. "What do you want this to be?" You ask. He looks back down at your lips, then to your eyes. "I.." he tries to read your face. "I want this to be more," he whispers, putting his heart on the line.

"I want you. I want to be yours."

An alpha admitting such feelings, even when he's supposed to withhold them because its shunned. It's honest and completely true. When he wants to be taken in as a partner, your partner. The one seeking out instead of being sought out. He's the one asking you. Feelings the reversed roles. You nod, taking his words into your heart.

"I want you too. I want to be yours too." You whisper, leaning up to kiss the corner of his lip. "But.." You silently say, knowing you have to be true, he looks at you, worry in his frown. "I love you as much as I love all of our pack," you confess to the pack alpha.

"More than friends," your voice cracks, withholding the waterfall behind your eyes. They blur with unsheded tears. Hongjoongs face going blurring. His hand from behind your head comes up. Calling your name softly. you feel bad, like what you want can't be said. Like it's shameful. Hongjoong pulls away, grounding his knee back into the couch.

He's leaving, you think. He's doesn't think it's okay. Your lip trembles, and your eyes grow the most blurry.

Hongjoongs' hands come up to hold your face. His thumbs swipe under your eyes, pushing the tears out of your vision so you can see him clearer. "That doesn't matter to me," he frowns, and you inhale a sob. "I knew you did, I can tell. I don't mind sharing with them." he laughs towards the end, hoping to stop your silent tears.

"Don't cry," he shushes with a grin, pulling you back into him. You try to stop yourself. He kisses the side of your head multiple times.

He feels the same, and he's willing to involve the members into your very personal, very small, intimate pack dynamic beginning to blossom. God, are you special? You're so happy.

"They like you too, you know." he bites his lip, kissing your lips gently. "We all really like you. It's why we never say anything with the affection. Even if they don't know it, I can tell." He smiles. You don't believe him, the oblivious hongjoong. Cute, sweet, clumsy, captain hongjoong. "How can you tell?" You ask, rubbing your thumb down his cheek.

"Intuition," he hums.

For 3 days, you've been keeping things under wraps with joong. You love him lots. But it's too early to say so. And it's especially hard to hide the flushed looks and the loving glances. You both are trying to find a way to get a confession from the rest of the guys or to see if they feel the same way about the situation. It's odd, though. Having hongjoong, your.. boyfriend? Go out of his way to personally help you know if your other group members like you.

You truly wonder if he does like the idea of sharing you amongst your group, not in a possessive way, more so in a theres-more-than-enough-of-you-to-go-around way

The new feelings are strange and scary, one wrong move. One slip up, and you're ruining your friendship you've worked years to build. You highly doubt that will happen, though. You doubt you will ever want to leave hongjoong. You hope he feels the same.

Lately, San and wooyoung have hit the town, coming back tipsy. You make it obvious you're taking care of them, leaving hangover pills and water by their bedside table like some worried sick roommate. You struggle as you turn San on his side. Frowning at the scent of alcohol on his clothes. You slip his blanket over him, watching his sleepy and droopy eyes blink up at you.

"Omega," san whines, reaching his hand out to grab you. You sigh and sit back on your heels. "Yes, san," you answer, grabbing his hand from mid-air. You've got to be quiet due to the other roommates in the room, passed out, and completely tired from a long day. "Wait," he slurs, kicking the covers off of him. "San!" You go to stop him. He doesn't care. You grab his arms to steady him, watching his face shudder as nausea hits him.

He leans right into your chest, digging his face into you. "'mega, i'll take care of you." You could almost laugh. You're currently taking care of incompetent san, who's completely blackout drunk, who definitely doesn't know what he's saying or that he's squishing his face as close to your boobs as he can get. "I know," you reassure. "Me and woo will do it..." he mumbles the rest under his breath.

"You and woo will do what, sanie?" You try to ask, watching him droop down into you, San does weigh a good amount based on how much muscle he's packed on lately. You haven't been hitting the gym, so you're somewhat struggling to hold him up right now. You huff as you lean him back over into the bed, he wraps his arms around your back, dragging you onto the bed next to him.

You sigh, trying to lean away. "Me, you, woo, maybe yeosangie," he mumbles "everyone" he sighs into your stomach. You feel the heat of his head pressed there. San digs his face into you some more, rubbing his head back and forth across you. Nonsense spills from his lips, and you wonder why you even tried to distinguish it.

"Don't go," he whines as he feels you attempt to pull away. "San, we both have to sleep," you explain the best you can. He shakes his head into your shirt, pulling back to look at you. "Stay," he says earnestly.

"Fine, fine," you grumble, slipping into the bed next to him. Your head leans up against his pillows, whilst his lays on your stomach, clenching into your side. At least he's not on his back where he could choke. But you don't want to think about him throwing up on you either. Your hand strums through his red hair, separating knots gently. Sans breathing evens.

You can hear him mumble every once in a while. His hand clutches your thigh, holding it to him as if you'll escape. Using it to ground himself from the world spinning. He calls your name softly, shifting his head further up to look you in the eyes. "Yes?" You answer back.

"I saw your papers," he sighs. "The heat assessment ones, with hongjoongs name on it" san sounds sober as he says it. Your eyes widen. You know you left that paper in your room. You know you hadn't properly hid it, and when hongjoong saw it in your room. He signed to with your permission. A growing flush to his cheeks as he did so, his beautiful signature locked into your paperwork.

"san, I -" he cuts you off. "Put our names down," he ushers, squeezing your thigh as he says it. He looks up, squinting his eyes. "I talked with Woo and Yeosang about it. They don't want to say it, so I will." he sits up, swaying. The bed dips under him.

His hands land softly on either side of you when he sits on your left. "You can put our names down, i want you to, they want you to, i- if you want to," he emphasizes every word.

"No one else, no other alphas, betas, whatever, no one other than our pack should touch you during your heat. You're off limits to everyone else. You're ours. And I'll bite their heads off for even thinking about it."

You don't think san can bite anyone's head off. But the way he says it is as if he's trying to be as scary as possible. Instead, he's whining through his words, and it almost sounds as if he's scolding you. His eyes squint at you, tapping your leg before he falls back over your stomach.

"If you want to." He says, making sure you know he's not taking the option away. He's just jealous it's even an option. "If you remember this in the morning, you can write your name on the paper, all of you," you make a deal, hoping this will stay and if it doesn't then you know san didn't mean it.

"I give you my full permission to write your names if you remember." You bite your lip. Is this right? You trust these guys more than anyone. More than any hookup, more than any alpha, you know. You know they will not break your trust. Because they're your pack. They're your members. If they don't want it, they don't have to sign it. They don't have to agree if they don't want to.

And you know if san remembers, he can have the choice to pretend he didn't or to go through with it.

You won't know until they sign it tomorrow.

A/n; omg... leaving it on a cliffhanger again(I'm terrible)pls don't hate me this isn't proof read either ;"c next update will take more than a few days so I can gather the storyline and get everything ready before the big heat.(stay tuned)

taglist: @lelaleleb @bratty-tingz @0325tiny @smilefordongil @atinytinaa @yunholuvrsblog @ja3hwa @stopeatread @sousydive @voicesinmyhead-rc @giiouis @c4tboyxiao @eastleighsblog @doggopepper @uhhheather @hyukssunflower (if I forgot to tag you (I'm sorry I'm new to this) :( please lmk!!)

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,593 Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: not really specified, but Negan calls you "doll" and "darlin'" often Warnings: language (the usual), some flirty!Negan Era: Alexandria, post-Negan Summary: Negan and the reader must weather the storm and the horde overnight and find someway to get back to Alexandria. A/N: Sorry this came later than I hoped to get it out. This is why I try to 1.) never write two series at once and 2.) never make a posting schedule because I usually can't adhere to it haha some parts just take longer to get right... so thanks for your patience and HAPPY WICKED WEDNESDAY! Previous part - Part 3

The storm overhead was still raging. Tucked away in the basement mostly underground you heard it only as a dull roar. The wind occasionally whistled and howled lending a haunting soundtrack to your sheltering.

Negan had dug out a couple sleeping bags and used one to cushion his seat on another box of supplies, his back leaned up against the wall and his long legs kicked out toward you.

“Can I have that?” you asked, gesturing to the other bag. You were sitting on the floor and the concrete was cold. He tossed it over to you and you folded it and placed it underneath yourself, sitting down in more comfort. You sighed and leaned back against the wall behind you, shutting your eyes for a moment. You could feel Negan looking at you.

“You’re really not going to tell me anything about you?” You cracked one eye open and looked at him, drawing a laugh from deep in his chest. It was resonant and warm, like the sound from a rosewood guitar. “We’ve been doing this for—I don’t know, three months now and I don’t know a damn thing besides your name,” Negan said, twirling the fireplace poker in his hand.

You sighed and sat up again. “What do you want to know?”

“What’d you do before all this?”

“Before the outbreak?”

“Yeah. Before everything went to shit.”

“Uhh… actually, I was a stripper.”

Negan froze, a shit-eating grin growing on his face. “Really?”

“No!” you laughed. “But it seems like you were hoping for something juicy like that,” you said with a self-satisfied smirk. “God, it’s so easy it’s not even fun!”

He laughed heartily. “Alright, smartass… But can you blame me? Shit, I was about to ask for a private performance.”

“I’m sure you were,” you retorted.

“I noticed that you still didn’t answer the question,” Negan said.

“Oh, that’s funny,” you said with a smile. It crinkled the corners of your eyes and Negan found himself suddenly gulping, nervous. He was nervous? “You know, it’s not like I really know a ton about you either.”

“Well, you know about my Savior days. That’s more than I know about you.”

“Is it?” you asked, one of your eyebrows arching.

Negan felt as if a continent shifted inside him when you looked at him like that; inquiring and graceful and steady. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “I think—and this is just my opinion, but I think that was a mask,” you said. “It’s almost as if you were playacting. But maybe you convinced yourself that it was the real you or maybe it was in some ways, for a time, and so everyone else around you believed it. It was convincing to watch.”

Negan gulped. He had that same sensation again, as if you were seeing into his core, his true center. “Jesus, doll, maybe fucking warn me before you say some shit like that again.” But there was no trace of jest or sarcasm in his voice and his expression was sincere as he stared back at you. His hazel eyes looked like there was a glow in them that was shifting like the heat moving over the coals of a fire. Was it turmoil? He drew in a deep breath. “Well, what’s the difference, if I was pretending or not? I still did what I did.”

“It matters,” you replied softly. “First of all, because it’s painful to not be seen, to not have your true self perceived, to be invisible in a way. And—when you’ve been hiding in any kind of shadow for a long time, like behind a mask, it’s all the more painful to—to seek out the light, to feel. To be awake. It’s easier to just—pretend.”

Negan’s brow furrowed heavily as you spoke and his hands were still on the iron rod, fingers curled around the chill of the metal. “You’re talking as if you know something about that,” he replied.

You smiled at him vaguely, sighing a little and leaning your head back against the wall again. “Maybe I’m just observant.”

“Alright,” he nodded. His tongue swept out over his bottom lip. “Well, you know about Savior Negan, whether it was a mask or not… and you know that I was a high school gym teacher and coach, and I still know absolutely fuck-all about you,” he said.

“Correct,” you replied.

Negan sighed, looking disappointed. He stared around the room aimlessly for a moment, clicking his tongue thoughtfully and spinning the iron rod in his hand. “What’s your favorite color?” he asked suddenly.

You laughed. “So, you’re switching to small talk now?”

He shrugged. “What the hell else are we gonna do?”

It seemed harmless enough. “Green,” you said.

“Green,” he nodded. “Hmm. Favorite food?”

You shot him an amused look. “Is this even entertaining?”

He only shrugged again and smiled at you expectantly.

“Raspberries,” you said.

“That’s lucky,” he said, scratching at his beard. “You can still get those. In fact, aren’t there a bunch of raspberry plants back home?”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Did you just say back home?” you asked.

“Oh. Shit! Fuck me sideways, doll, I think I did,” he laughed, looking stunned himself. He let out a scoff and shook his head.

“That was… unexpected,” you replied.

“Well, how long do you have to live someplace before you call it home? Even in a cell, I guess time matters.”

“I don’t know. Home has always been a feeling for me, more than a place,” you said.

“Hmm. That seems like it could be telling,” Negan said, absently rubbing a hand over his beard again.

You rolled your eyes. “Now who sounds like a shrink?” you retorted. He laughed a little and shrugged.

“Alright. Green. Raspberries. Got it. Next question…”

“Negan…” you laughed, rubbing a hand over your face, feeling suddenly bashful at his probing and focused interest in you.

“Come on, doll. Just humor me.” He sighed and stretched, thinking. “Favorite season?”

“I can’t choose a favorite. I like different things about all of them.” Then, you paused thoughtfully. “But fuck southern summers.”

Negan smiled widely. “I can agree to that. What was your first car?”

“Pfft… the city bus,” you said. “You’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel here on the questions.”

“I’m—working up to the really interesting ones… But really? You never had a car? Not even a rusty shitbox?”

You shook your head. “Nope. In fact, I didn’t even learn to drive until after the outbreak.”

Negan’s eyebrows lifted and his eyes widened. “Fuckin’ hell. That must have been terrifying. Everything shut down and you were just—”

“—stuck,” you finished. You were staring down at your hands and fiddling with a loose string on the hem of your shirt. “Though, most of the roadways were pretty clogged up quickly so it probably didn’t matter all that much. The only people who got out of the cities anyway were the ones who left as soon as there was a whiff of trouble. And then came the riots and the bombings and—”

A shadow darkened Negan’s face. “Fucking hell. You were in a city city when shit went down.”

You suddenly realized what you’d revealed and looked up at him, your breath caught in your throat at the sudden rush of memories unbidden. You gulped at the tightness in your throat and nodded. “Yeah. I was, um—I was in Atlanta.”

“That’s where you found Rick’s group,” Negan said. It wasn’t really a question.

You nodded. “More like they found me,” you said, ducking your eyes again. It wasn’t lost on Negan that you were avoiding his gaze. He sensed that there was still a wound there, unhealed, deep down. Perhaps it was one that would never truly heal. “But it also wasn’t really Rick’s group then. He’d just met all of them too, like the day before. But Daryl, Rick, T-dog, and—and Glenn,” your voice broke when you said Glenn’s name, but it wasn’t just for him that your voice wavered. “They found me. Helped me.” You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment. “Now, it’s just me, Carol, and Daryl left, out of all of us at the beginning.”

There was a soft frown on Negan’s face, creases in his forehead, when you looked back up, but it wasn’t pity. It was just… sympathy and no small amount of guilt. “I’m—sorry,” he said. His deep voice somehow seemed to cut through the air between you and right to the bone. “I know I had a part in that. And I’m truly sorry.” You were startled to see that his eyes were slightly glassy.

“Yeah, well… you don’t owe that apology to me. You owe it to Maggie and her son far more,” you said, shifting on the sleeping bag you were sitting on. A shiver suddenly wracked through you and you hugged your arms around yourself. The fingers of the cold, damp of the cellar seemed to be slowly finding their way in under your clothing. “I thought you were supposed to only be asking me small talk questions? How’d we get here?” you said with a wry laugh.

But Negan wasn’t really listening. He was digging out the jacket he’d shed earlier and tucked into his pack. “Here,” he said. He tossed it over to you.

You caught it, and then fixed your eyes back on him. “Oh. I’m okay,” you tried to argue.

Negan smiled at you, a small one that had his hazel eyes looking bright. “I just saw you shiver. I already think you’re a badass, doll. A little chill isn’t fucking changing that.”

You sighed, and relented. “Alright…” you murmured, pulling on the jacket. It swallowed up your frame, hanging on your shoulders and bunching around your wrists, and Negan couldn’t quite put a name to the feeling that suddenly manifested in between his lungs.

“Thanks,” you murmured, huddling into the fabric.

“Of course. Seems like we’re gonna be here a while,” Negan said. “Actually—” he pulled the top off a bin beside him and grabbed a camping stove and lighter. “We’ve got a stove, water… MREs. You’ve got those tea leaves we foraged on the way in?”

You quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Yeah?”

“Perfect,” he said. “It’s about dinnertime by now. Sit back and relax!”

You laughed a little skeptically at him. “You’re gonna… cook me dinner?”

“I don’t think heating up some MREs and tea qualifies as cooking. You should see me in a real kitchen. It’s a real panty-dropped,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus…”

He laughed heartily and started setting up the stove. “No, no. You can still call me ‘Negan’,” he quipped, winking at you.

“Okay… don’t ever wink at me again,” you retorted, which only made him laugh harder.

“That is a promise that I am not willing to make. Or keep,” he joked. “Now, hand me some of those raspberry leaves you picked.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You stretched lazily, your eyes still closed for a moment, before you shot up straight, remembering where you were and the events of the previous day. Your eyes were wide as you realized that at some point over the course of the night, you’d fallen asleep. Part of you expected to see that Negan had somehow gotten ahold of your gun or knife, despite them always being stored securely on your person. But you didn’t have any need to worry. When you looked across the small, dingy space, he was still perched on the same box of supplies he had been the night before, though his long legs were now stretched out and up on another box.

He was smiling at you serenely, the fireplace poker resting across his knees. “Morning, doll.”

You gulped. “I—I fell asleep.”

“You sure did,” he said. You could tell he hadn’t slept at all. His voice was a bit gruff and undeniably tired. He’d kept watch all night. “You snore by the way.”

You hastily smoothed your hair and clothes, staring back at him. “What? I do not!” you argued.

He laughed. “Yeah, you do. But it’s okay. I found it strangely comforting actually. Nearly put me to sleep.”

“Shut up,” you said, standing up and stretching again.

“Don’t flirt,” he retorted, still smiling serenely.

You paced over toward the one narrow window in the basement and looked up at the quality of light filtering through the dirty glass. It was clearly early morning and the storm had passed. More than that, you couldn’t see or hear any of the dead outside. “Seems like the herd moved on.”

“Mhm,” Negan hummed in agreement. “It all got quiet in the early hours of this morning.”

“You stayed awake all night?”

He nodded, standing now too. “Yeah. Somebody else was slacking off after their gourmet meal,” he teased you.

You ground your teeth together, angry at yourself for falling asleep. “You should have woken me up. And ‘gourmet’ seems like a stretch for an expired MRE don’t you think?”

“With locally sourced tea? Come on, people would have paid a pretty fucking penny for that shit in the old world.”

You laughed a little and shook your head, then turned and fixed your eyes on him with a deeply perplexed expression on your face.

“What? That’s quite a look for first thing in the morning,” Negan said. “I can’t have fucked up that bad already!”

“Why—why didn’t you leave?” you said. “As soon as the herd cleared and the storm settled… you could have disappeared, taken some supplies.” The jacket he’d given to you the night before was still hanging on your smaller frame. The sleeves had slipped down over your hands and you hastily pushed them back up. “You know what you’re going back to.”

He just kept smiling back at you, his expression surprisingly soft and genuine, no trace of his usual jest or masking. It was doing something to you, stirring up a whir of fluttering just below your lungs that was impossible to ignore. You gulped, trying to clear the sensation. He paced toward you, stopping within a foot. “Yeah. Maybe that’s why I stayed,” he said.

Your brow only furrowed even more deeply. “You’re a prisoner,” you said plainly.

Negan shrugged. “Am I? I think I’m starting to fucking forget that…” His hazel eyes were flickering over your face, studying your features. You were the one to fell a sudden wave of emotions cresting up within you and you backed away from it.

“We should—see if the coast is clear,” you said softly, ducking your eyes. “Get back to the car. Everyone back home will be worried. They may even have come looking already.”

Negan smiled to himself. He’d felt something in the air profoundly, but he’d also seen how you’d stepped away and the spell was broken. “Okay,” he said simply.

The two of you gathered up your essential gear and headed up the steps cautiously, listening at the barricaded basement door for any noises on the other side. You pounded on the door with your bandaged hand and pressed your ear to the wood. Nothing. Steady silence.

“Okay,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I don’t hear anything. You can hang onto that poker until we know for sure the house is clear, but then you’ll have to leave it behind. Got it?”

Negan agreed, a little hesitantly, but he wasn’t going to argue with you this time.

You unblocked the door, lifting the wooden board you’d secured it with the night before, being careful to avoid the sharp metal brackets this time. The next moment, you slowly pushed it open.

The house was clear and once you’d thoroughly looked out through windows on all sides of the house, he begrudgingly left the iron fireplace poker behind. Stepping outside, the destruction from the storm and the horde were blatantly evident. Most of the windows in the surrounding buildings, including the house you’d sheltered in, were busted or hailed out. There were large branches blown down off trees and the leaves of many were also shredded in the hailstorm and wind. Shingles and scraps of siding and wood were lying in the scraggly patches of grass.

“Good thing we didn’t try to make it out in the car. I’ll be surprised if the windshield is intact when we get back to it,” you said, nudging a shingle with your boot.

“Yeah,” Negan agreed. “What’s the plan? We still have all those supplies to load up.”

“Um… I guess we can try to get the car in here and load them up. That side road didn’t look too bad on the way in.”

The two of you headed that direction immediately, still on guard and wondering where the herd had gone to. Knowing only hours had passed, it was possible they weren’t far at all. But you arrived at the car safely. However, there was another problem.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you swore, staring at the scene in front of you.

Negan stopped beside you and all he could do was laugh wryly. “Well, shit.”

A huge old cottonwood tree had come down in the storm and the trunk had entirely crushed the car. You sighed and dropped your pack down beside you heaving a huge sigh. “Well… Daryl and Michonne will have noticed by now that we aren’t back. Let’s hope they’re already on their way.” The two of you waited by the car, and luckily it wasn’t long before you saw an approaching vehicle down the old highway. The two of you scrambled into cover, just in case it wasn’t who you were hoping for.

But it was. A truck pulled up and you saw Daryl behind the wheel as it stopped behind your smashed vehicle. Aaron, Rosita, and Daryl piled out and quickly ran to check the car. That’s when the two of you stepped out of cover on the side of the road.

“Hey!” you called out to them. “Can’t tell you how happy I am to see you all,” you said, jogging over. Negan walked over more slowly, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Hell of a storm,” you said, gesturing at the smashed car.

“Goddamn, ‘m so glad to see ya in one piece,” Daryl said, pulling you quickly into a one-armed hug, his crossbow in the other hand. “We were worried sick, but figured it was the storm. Are ya okay?” he asked, shooting a tense look in Negan’s direction. “What happened to your hand?” he asked, noticing the bandage.

“I’m good. Just cut it while scavenging. It’s fine. How’s Alexandria? Everyone okay after the crazy wind and everything?”

“Yeah, all good. Definitely better than yer car,” he said, looking at the crushed vehicle.

“Thank God you weren’t inside,” Rosita said, slinging her rifle over her back.

“No. Instead we were trapped by a horde in a house,” you explained, crossing your arms.

“A horde?” Aaron repeated. “You’re serious?”

You nodded gravely. “Yeah. I was worried you were going to run into them on the highway to be honest. They moved on overnight.”

Negan was standing nearby, looking out of place. Daryl kept shooting him tense glances.

“We found a pile of supplies though, in a hidden survivalist cellar. I bet we can get a vehicle to the house and load them up, especially with your four-wheel drive vehicle.”

“At least something good came out of your trip then!” Aaron said cheerfully, patting your shoulder. “Glad you’re safe.”

You nodded and you all started back towards their truck. Daryl fell into step beside you. “Hey—” he started in an undertone. “Everything really went okay? Even with him?” he asked.

You nodded and felt your cheeks flushing inexplicably. “Yeah.” You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should even tell him this… but you did. “I—I didn’t mean to, but I fell asleep overnight. Negan stayed up on watch the whole time, Daryl. He could have—taken my weapons, overpowered me—the herd and storm were clear. He could have left, disappeared. But he didn’t. He stayed,” you explained in a low voice. “I—I don’t understand it.”

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, his brow furrowed deeply, shadows cast over his blue eyes. He looked up and caught Negan staring in your direction. “’M glad yer safe, especially considerin’ that. But ya gotta be more careful.”

You sighed. “I know. I’m already angry at myself. I just—I don’t understand why he stayed,” you said, hesitating with your hand on the door handle of the truck.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “‘M startin’ to have an idea.”

[secretkinkz]

I'm requesting a father Sukuna and Sukuna's daughter's best friend, Y/N. Sukuna  looks at their thighs, low-cut top, and other things during the day and when Y/N's friend is asleep they go to the kitchen to get something to eat and they notice Sukuna sitting at the kitchen table doing work and Y/N's tries to tease him but it backfires. [PS love your work. Hope you are still writing. Much love!]

A/n: OMG, I can't even tell how long it's been since you requested this. I'm so sorry, I didn't know I even HAD submissions! I've been gone for a while but here, I did my best <3

~~~~

P s. Y'all don't think too much Abt the age. Literally. Don't. It might not make sense.

Modern AU

Warnings: Age gap (19/32), broken girl code, spitting, spanking, gagging, choking, hair pulling, male oral and, fem oral.

Enjoy~

So fucking rude, but he's fucking sexy. God, I can't stand him.

You stare at Sukuna from across the room as he stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his back turned doing God knows what on his phone.

You were over to see Yuromi, his daughter, your best friend. Well, to be honest. You wanted to see him, you've only known Yuromi for 6 months, yesterday you met her dad.

It was your birthday party, her dad dropped her off and you were introduced to him. He nonchalantly nodded and drove off after telling his 21 year old daughter to be safe.

Yeah, she still lives with her dad, because she was afraid of the real world.

Yuromi had always been spoiled and clearly pampered by her father so she was afraid of leaving the house and he was completely fine with that. He was a single father so he doesn't have a reason to deny her.

But seriously, you were interested in him but Yuromi would be pissed if you actually tried him out. Would she? Then again, she was adopted. Sukuna adopted her when she was 10.

God, you wanted him though. To just fuck him, let him bend you over the counter and go balls deep.

His rough voice saying the most disgusting things that would leave you dripping for him. Fuck.

You had a chance, you often caught Sukuna staring at you. So you wore revealing clothes every time you went over. He would watch your ass whenever you bend over, sometimes you'd part your legs so he could see the lace panties you wore.

You squeeze your legs together just thinking about it.

"Hey, come on. Stop ignoring me.." Yuromi cocked her eyebrows, crossing her arms.

"It's late, sorry I'm tired." I mumbled.

"Shit, it is 1 am. Let's go to bed." She stood up from the couching and stretched.

"I'm going to bed dad, goodnight." She went over and hugged him, his kissed her forehead. "Sleep well." He said, as she smiled.

"Don't overwork yourself."

We went upstairs to her room. "Okay, in the morning we'll go to the concert. God, I can't wait." She squealed, hugging you.

You chuckled, she was excited over a classical show. Beethoven's fur Elise, would be performed.

"Alright, I'll wake you up." You waved as you went into the room next to hers..

It was only an hour later when you got hungry, so you decided to go downstairs.

To your surprise, Sukuna was sitting at the table on his laptop.

You slowed down and stared at him for a moment before going into the kitchen. "Don't mind me." You whispered, grabbing a water bottle instead before moving to the table.

"What do you want?" He asked, picking up his pen. "Nothing..." You lean forward, letting your oversized tank top shift a little.

"You know for someone who's only known me for less than 3 months, you sure are comfortable wearing those clothes around my house." He said coldly, meeting your gaze. You nearly melt seeing his intense glare.

"I'm sorry, I'll dress better." You run lick your lips and watch hima s he writes whatever's on his laptop down. "Do you need anything?"

He growls lowly, clearly becoming frustrated.

"Actually, yes.. I'd like to get to know you. Since, you're my best friend's father."

He removed his glasses and looked up.

"What would you like to know?" He asks, making it noticeable that he wasn't interested.

"What are your hobbies, What do you like to eat, your taste in women-"

"If you're only hanging with my daughter just to get at me, I suggest you stop."

"What? Of course not, I love Yuromi. But.." you rhb your feet against his leg.

"It wouldn't hurt wanting her dad."

Sukuna stared at you as you stood up, moving behind him. You place your hands on his shoulders, brushing your lips against his ear.

"You're playing a dangerous game girl."

"I like to play risky sometimes."

Sukuna gripped your wrist and slammed you against the table, pressing his bulge against your ass. "Let's see how long you'll be willing to."

He kicked your legs apart and lifted your shirt. "No panties? So you're used to quickies huh?"

"No, I barely have sex. Why, are you jealous?"

Sukuna slaps your ass, gripping it firmly. "I'm far too grown to be jealous."

You gasp feeling his cold fingers slip between your lips. His free hand reaching under your shirt and gripping your breast. You bite your lips, surpressing your moans, his fingers curl hitting your sensitive spot.

"Whatever you say. you're moving like we have all day."

"I like to take my time, admire something before I make a mess of it."

Sukuna inserts another finger, spreading them apart. "Don't do that." You whine, bucking your hips. "This?"

He spreads them again, like he was stretching your pussy.

"You're practically riding my fingers right now."

You instantly stop moving your hips. "Perhaps you're out of touch, which is why you're taking years."

He smiles slightly as your insult.

Your eyes widened feeling a hot and burning sensation on your ass again, it doesn't stop as he strikes your ass again and again. "Let's see, if I'm out of touch."

Tear prick the end of your eyes as he rubs the painful area. Fuck it get so good. Sukuna thrusts his fingers into your mouth, gagging you as he thrusts them in and out.

Your eyes roll back as your throat grows hot. You struggle to pull back, Sukuna keeps his fingers buried deep. Not even caring that you were turning red and choking.

Feeling your hips twitch, he withdraws his fingers. You inhale, attempting to catch your breath. He collects the drool on the side of your mouth, using it to coat your nipples. You didn't think Sukuna was fucking Sadistic.

"Get on your knees."

You did as he ordered, leaning against the counter and you sat on your knees. You nearly choked on your salvia seeing his dick, it was fucking huge. You couldn't possibly take that.

The tip of his cock red and forming with precum, it was veiny and long.

"Open." But hearing his raspy voice order you around, that was impossible to reject.

You open your mouth, your hands barely wrapping around his length as you take the head into your mouth.

He grunts, watching you try and take all of it. "Shouldn't be greedy."

You glare at him and pull back, going back down and repeat. You eventually speed up, the sounds of your slurping and gagging on his girth is the only thing heard.

As if he'd grown impatient, he tangled his finger in your hair and began thrusting. Your head hitting the wall as he pins you against it. He growls and leans his head back. "Fuck."

You place your hands on his thigh, fighting the urge to finger yourself to his aggression.

Sukuna holds your head still as he slams his cock down your throat, groaning as if you two were the only ones in the house.

Thank God Yuromi was a heavy sleeper, she didn't even wake up to someone banging on her door.

"Shit, your mouth is pretty useful. I like that, the sound of you choking on my dick. It's better than you shamelessly flirting with me."

He slaps your face a few times, before pulling away.

You swallow his load, coughing slightly.

Sukuna grabbed you by the waist and placed you on the counter, spreading your legs.

He went between your legs, wasting no time to start sucking on your folds.

"Mm." You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him, biting your lip.

"Yes.." Your eyes flutter, his thumb rubbing your clitoris in circular motions as he spits and smears it. So nasty, and filthy, he didn't care how messy he was, he was slurping your juices and enjoying every moment of it.

"Fuck, Suk-Sukuna... ohhh shit shit!" You squirm, gripping his hair as you arch your back off the counter. "Mm, fuck! Keep going, yes yes!" He speeds up, grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulders as he pushes your knees against your chest.

"God! Mm fuck, baby!" You whimper, panting heavily as you chase your orgasm.

Your toes curls as your mouth falls open, stomach churning as your orgasm waves over you.

Sukuna pulls away, his tongue running over his lips.

He presses his dick against your entrance.

He hasn't even started fucking you yet and you were already tired and overstimulated. You couldn't even take the small steps, how could you possibly handle him fucking your brains out?

When he did start, you were gripping the edges of the counter moaning loudly as he slammed his hips into your ass.

"Fuckin' tight, shit I could fuck this all night." He groaned, yanking your head back as you clenched your teeth. "Open."

He spat in your mouth, you closed your mouth and swallowed. God, whatever this man would throw at you, you would swallow willingly. He asked so fucking sexy, his dick? Even better, shiitt it was stretching you wide.

You were almost screaming as he slapped your ass and brutally fucked your pussy.

He pulled out and turned you on your back, entering with the same force once again. This time he got a better look at your flushed face as you took his cock.

"You like that?"

"M-mm, I fucking love it!" You cried, your eyes rolling back as he wrapped his hand around your throat. "Good, fucking good."

He tightened the grip he had around your throat, his eyes rolling back S you clenched down on his cock. "S-Shit." He released a guttural moan.

It wasn't long before he took you to his bedroom, you found yourself in a mating press as you had the filthiest kiss ever.

He fought the urge to fill your tight, warm pussy with his seed. He wanted to make you a mother, just so he could see his cum drip from all of your holes.

~~~~~~~

A/n: it's 3 am. I need to take my ass to sleep. 😌❤️

[fluffyprettykitty]

Hi! For the summer sleepover, can I request Tony Stark + period sex? Maybe the reader is having terrible cramps and Tony tries to help distract them and ease the pain.

pairing: college!tony stark x female reader

warnings: period sex, cramps, fingering, penetration, swearing.

words: 700

a/n: unedited as per usual :P got many asks for my sleepover and I will get to them all no worries &lt;3

"Fuck!"

You cry out and wrap yourself up under your duvet. First-day period cramps were the worst and you had the absolute misfortune of starting it in the middle of the lecture. You tried to power through it but the pain got terrible and you managed to leave and come up to your dorm to clean yourself and make yourself comfortable.

A knock is heard at your door and you only groan in frustration.

"It's me." Tony's voice is distinctly heard. You hadn't been dating a long time so you were unsure if you wanted to burden him.

"I'm sick, I'll talk to you later." You shouted and shut your eyes, then the gentle opening of the door and light coming at you surprised you. Yet of course Tony wouldn't just go away.

"I know what you're going through." He nods his head and comes closer. "Well not know know, I just thought that the dates add up, plus you were frantically wrapping your jacket around your waist."

"Tony, I'll be fine." You looked at him and smiled at his concern. "But really it will p-" A sharp pain came through you shutting you up.

"Which is why I got a plan."

"Shit." You cried wrapping your hands around your belly.

"And I know you're gonna enjoy it. An experiment of sorts for scientific reasons."

"You're not using a random device you just came up with."

"No, no machines. Just..." He beams and points at himself. "Just relax, sit back for me." You obliged, thinking he'd probably start massaging you and that's what he did at first starting from your stomach, to your belly, the lower he got the less constructed you felt.

He kept up his movements for a while until he slipped his hands under your pants, you groaned a little but he only shushed you back. Then he started pressing his whole palm over your lower stomache, moving it down to your center and up again. A different kind of fire was building up inside you and you know exactly what he wanted to do.

"Tony." You warned him and he chucked. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I've studied very well and now I'm ready to take action."

Using his two fingers together he reaches underneath your period panties and starts massaging your pussylips. Slowly and sensually in a rhythm that almost makes your pain disappear. You place a hand on his hand and moan when his thumb brushes your clit.

"Tony." You repeat his name again as your hips are almost pushing against his fingers.

"You're right, you need the.." He chuckles as he comes close to your face. "The real pain reliever." You look at him confused and he quickly withdraws his fingers making you gasp for air.

"Give me one second, the doctor will be with you shortly." He fumbled with clothes a little, only to get up and push his pants down, revealing his erect cock standing firm against his stomache. "You know I rush to get up in the mornings, no underwear." He mumbles as he gently pushes your body again behind and pushing your pants further down.

"I've never done this like this before." You whispered almost embarrassed.

"Damn, baby girl, I can't get any harder." Tony mused as his cock twitched. "Gotta perform excellently for my favourite girl."

With a bit of adjusting himself over you, getting you as naked as he liked, making sure none of his body weight could get on you, he positioned himself ready to enter you. "If you hurt at any point, just tell me and I'll stop alright?"

He entered you slowly, giving you time to adjust to this unique feeling. He kept his movements slow and to the point as he layed a little against the wall to achieve a little sideway position. This gave him the ability to use his finger on you, massaging your clit in time with his slow movements, which all worked beautifully on you.

By the time Tony let you go, you had already orgasmed three times and you were feeling better and overly exhausted. When you woke up a few hours later, he was still inside you - soft, his head resting on your shoulder.

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading. This chapter contains violence and sexual content.

FIVE SEVEN

SIX (+18)

A few days later, after several visits to the hospital pretending to be Steve Rogers' wife, he is finally being discharged today. His recovery has been remarkable; he no longer needs support for his arm, only a brace. Naturally, you came to pick him up from the hospital, ready for your last performance as his wife and to return his car that you've been using. Sure, you have your own car, but it doesn’t quite compare to Steve’s. As soon as you walk into the hospital, you spot your fake husband bidding farewell to the medical staff.

"My beautiful wife, light of my life. Come and thank these wonderful people with me for the excellent job they did taking care of my arm and ensuring I’ll never have financial stability again," Steve says playfully, as he bids farewell to a group of nurses escorting him to the hospital entrance. You laugh as you approach him, and he pulls you into an embrace. You nestle gently against his chest, placing his arm around your shoulder so he can lean on you for support.

"Your husband is a very kind man, we’re going to miss him; he has some great stories," one of the nurses says, sounding quite interested in Steve. You smile faintly, imagining the nonsense Steve must have shared while he was either drugged or simply bored.

"He really is great at telling stories. Thank you all for taking such good care of him, I don’t know what I’d do without my precious husband," you say, placing a lingering kiss on Rogers' cheek. He looks into your eyes, as if you were a forbidden fruit he longed to taste. After the goodbyes, you both head to the parking lot.

"Where did you leave your car?" Steve asks, his arm somehow still draped around you. You smile a bit sheepishly and point to his car, just ahead of where you stand.

"As your wife, I had to borrow something personal of yours, you know, to make it seem real," you explain, trying to justify yourself as you watch Steve pull away and rush to his car, checking it over to ensure everything’s intact.

"No one would’ve known that your car belongs exclusively to you, my dear fake wife. But since there’s no damage, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now hand over the keys," Steve says confidently, as if he's ready to drive. But you shake your head, denying him the keys.

"The doctor said yesterday that you need to rest your arm for the next few days, and that’s why I came to pick you up—to take you home. After this, I suggest you call a ride service, a taxi, or use public transport," you say, opening the passenger door for him. He gives you a reluctant look, clearly displeased with not driving. Yet something in your fierce gaze and impatient grunt convinces Steve to get into the car, and soon enough, feeling victorious, you get in as well. In no time, you’re driving toward Steve’s house.

"My house is nearby. You must be wondering how I'm already living in a place, considering I just got back to the city," Steve says, fidgeting with his fingers, his voice a little slurred as if still under the influence of painkillers. "I'm staying in Bucky's old place. He's probably furious that he can't go back there—it would’ve made a good hideout. Maybe that's why he shot me. Or maybe it was Natasha's idea." He mumbles some of his words, and you try to keep a neutral expression, knowing full well that he’s aware it was either one of them who shot him.

"How do you know it was one of them? It could've been anyone. And if you don’t mind me asking, who is Natasha?" Your award-worthy performance of feigned ignorance seems almost convincing even to yourself. You watch as Steve stops fiddling with his fingers—despite the brace—and looks at you, as if carefully considering his response. He lets out a heavy sigh before speaking.

"As for the shot, you already know. Even when I’m not all here, I can still tell when you're lying. But Natasha... she was Bucky’s partner before he started working with the wrong people. They had a pretty close partnership, you could say. It was the first time in years I thought Bucky could actually have a healthy relationship with someone. They loved avoiding unnecessary emotions, obsessed with fieldwork, and even today, they’re both still great marksmen."

Steve pauses, his frustration palpable, and continues, "Their partnership ended when Bucky took on an undercover mission that was too dangerous for Romanoff. She didn’t want to lose herself in the disguise. I’m betting he ran straight to her for help, and that pisses me off. He could’ve come to me—I would’ve helped him. Now it’s my job to bring him in for questioning." His frustration boils over as he bangs his braced arm against the car's dashboard, letting out a grunt. You can’t quite tell if it’s the pain or the possibility of a scratch on the car that bothers him more. As he speaks, you finally start piecing together the puzzle of Barnes' past life and who Natasha is to him, though only on a surface level.

"Surely he must have had a good reason for not reaching out to you. As for him being your possible shooter, it seems foolish to believe there's any justification for him to have put your well-being at risk. Maybe he’s no longer your best friend; perhaps he’s just a reckless man." You speak, carefully holding back your true thoughts. This might be the perfect moment to reveal everything you know to Steve Rogers, to make it clear that you’re aware of much more than you let on. But you can’t bring yourself to do it. You feel like a pathetic fool, unwilling to risk your crush being put in jeopardy.

"You two had a fight while I was in the hospital, didn’t you? Your words are so sincere; you must really believe Bucky is an idiot for shooting me. Well, know that he isn’t. The shot was practically perfect, it didn’t do much damage. He’s just trying to keep me away. But he’s not a cruel or reckless man." Steve says, looking at you as if searching for a reaction that confirms his suspicions. You park the car in front of the address Steve gave you and lean closer after unbuckling your seatbelt, then do the same for him.

"Mr. Rogers, understand once and for all that your friend and I have nothing. Why would a man with such a dangerous life want anything to do with a mere bakery owner? It doesn’t make sense. But I hope things get clarified between you two soon. Now let me help you to your house, and then we’ll part ways and never see each other again," you say, locking eyes with him as you undo his seatbelt.

Steve's face, which was almost smiling, turns serious. "I want another date; our last one was definitely interrupted." He leans in slightly closer, your faces mere inches apart. You’re taken by surprise, trying to fathom what Steve could possibly want from you now.

"Let's get inside your house quickly; the painkillers must be talking for you. In case you don't remember, your only interest in me is to know about your Bucky, nothing to do with wanting my company," you say firmly, noticing him staring at your lips as he contemplates his response.

"That was before you saved my life. Now my interest in you is personal. I promise to try not to expose your lies on this second date. How about I pick you up in a week when my doctor says I can start putting effort into my arm again?" Steve replies, a hint of determination in his eyes.

"You just said that whoever shot you didn't intend to kill you, Mr. Rogers. I merely took you to a hospital," you say as you exit the car, then open the passenger door and lean toward him. "And I don't understand the need for your arm's recovery. Now, put your arm around my neck, and let's go inside; it's getting cold out here." It really is getting colder since you left the hospital. He leans on you, remaining silent, likely fearing that you might let go if you get annoyed or uncomfortable with something he says. It’s only when you both enter his house with some difficulty, and you lay him down on his large, comfortable sofa, that he grabs your hand before you can step away.

“I need my good arm to be free so I can give you all the fun and pleasure a real date with me could offer. Give me that chance, and I promise I won’t bother you again,” Steve says, smiling as he looks up at you.

You contemplate his face for a few moments, considering whether you truly want to go on a date with Steve. Gently, you caress his hand before moving it away from your arm.

"Next week, make that proposal to me again—with your arm fully recovered. Let’s see what my answer will be then. For now, I'm going home. Take care of yourself, Mr. Rogers," you say as you watch him give you a victorious smile. Before leaving Steve’s house, you place his car keys on the kitchen counter.

As you hear him shout a "See you next week," you take a rideshare back to your apartment, eager to rest. However, upon arriving at your door, a sense of alertness washes over you. Given the recent events, you had decided to keep a can of pepper spray in your bag for self-defense. If some thug were to try to rummage through your things or rob you, they would certainly regret it. Without hesitation, you slowly open the door and spray pepper spray at the first figure you see in front of you. Barnes lets out a grunt of pain, murmuring "fuck, fuck, fuck" repeatedly as he covers his eyes.

“What the hell do you think you're doing? This stuff got in my eyes!” Barnes growls, writhing as he tries to rub the pepper spray out. Without hesitation, you rush to the kitchen, grabbing cold water and a cloth.

“Hold still, I’m trying to help,” you say, but he pulls back sharply, resisting your touch. Your patience snaps. Pushing him against the counter, you press your body firmly against his, taking control of the situation. You pull his hands away from his face with swift determination and begin gently wiping his eyes with the cold, damp cloth. As you carefully clean the remaining spray, his tense frame finally stills, allowing you to tend to him without further protest.

"Apparently, you must have suffered some kind of brain damage if you think trying to shoot me compares to me simply defending myself from an intruder. We're nowhere near being even, Barnes." You place the cloth down on the kitchen counter and turn to take in your apartment. Bucky had brought a bouquet of roses, most likely as a peace offering.

"I missed having you around, even when it feels like you want to hit me," Barnes says, his gaze fixed on you. You immediately turn to face him. You so dearly wish to trust his words, but lately, it seems as though he’s been toying with you.

"There’s no need to come at me with your charm, trying to use me again. I have no intention of continuing to be manipulated by you," you say with firm resolve, attempting to distance yourself from Bucky, though you don’t truly wish to. Yet, he pulls you closer, pressing you against the kitchen counter before lifting you onto it. He positions himself before you, standing between your legs. You lock eyes, both wearing expressions of seriousness.

"As if much evidence were needed to reach that conclusion. You hid in my restaurant because you had likely already noticed my little crush on you. Then, you must have used me to provoke your partner, with whom you had a relationship—so much so that she thought it necessary to nearly shoot me. And finally, you are using me to distract Steve. It's all clear now: I’m just a simple woman you decided to manipulate because I’m naïve enough." You spill your conclusions, struggling to contain the sadness welling within you. He shakes his head as if to deny everything, his body language betraying his discomfort under the weight of your accusations.

"You must think I’m a monster. If you believe I’m manipulating you because you’re an easy target, you’re sorely mistaken. You simply fail to see what’s right in front of you," he says, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself. He is clearly irritated, yet there is a hint of sadness in his expression. "The day we met, you asked me how my day was going. I told you I was having a tough day. You said everything could be fixed with a cup of coffee and then handed me one. I sipped your bitter coffee and told you it was delicious. Do you know why? Your eyes—they told me you were worth the effort of pretending to enjoy it. I don’t live near your bakery; I was there while working undercover, and even then, I used my real last name because I didn’t want to lie to you. I fought against the urge to ask you out for months because I knew I would have to deceive you. But I returned almost every day to your bakery because I wanted to see you. To drink your bitter coffee and taste your new recipes. Because seeing you made me feel normal," he confesses, his face just inches from yours. For a moment, you feel a pang of guilt, realizing you may have crossed a line.

"I want to say that I don’t trust a word of what you’ve said, but the truth is, even if you’re using me, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. And if my accusations have offended you, I apologize. It’s just that you’re not sincere with me. You didn’t tell me about Natasha, and I…" You pause, contemplating your next words. Should you admit that you feel somewhat jealous? Or that you’re considering accepting a date with his best friend? At this moment, everything feels so confusing to you.

"You’ve drawn your own conclusions. I don’t blame you, but I can’t reveal more than what you already know. So, in the end, you’re right to conclude that I’m using you. What other justification could there be for all of this, right?" Bucky’s expression and tone reflect a certain weight, a gravity that hangs in the air. It’s amusing how you find yourselves engaged in this relationship discussion that doesn’t truly exist, all while so close to one another. He continues to occupy the space between your legs, positioned right beside your body, as if holding you in place. The question remains: do you want him to step back?

"If that is all you have to say, then you had best leave," you reply, unsettled by the casual way he speaks, as though he isn’t erecting a wall between you. Yet, instead of stepping away, he draws closer, a tension growing between you that had not fully existed before. His hands gently cup your face, and you close your eyes, trying your best not to give in just yet.

"Do you truly want me to leave?" Barnes asks, his fingers brushing over your cheeks, then tracing your lips. You open your eyes to meet his gaze—those blue eyes, the most beautiful you’ve ever seen, fixed intently on you. You shake your head no, still watching him, unable to look away.

"I want you to want me. But nothing suggests that we’ll cast aside reason and embrace this mutual attraction," you say softly, as though too shy to openly admit your desire for him.

"To hell with reason," Barnes replies, pulling you toward him. His lips, possessive, devour yours as though he were savoring your taste. You return the kiss, urging Barnes to press even closer to you. Your hands explore his body while he holds your face, deepening the kiss with fervor. Your hands trail down Barnes' back, when you reach his rear, you squeeze his ass. He lets out a drawn-out moan near your ear as he starts to reach for the opening in your pants. With impressive agility he manages to help you take off your pants while holding you closer to him.

"Fuck me on the couch, Barnes. I want a reminder of you every time that I sit on it," you say with your mouth still pressed against his. He immediately picks you up, carrying you to your couch. You let out a little laugh, as if you were getting nervous but at the same time excited. Which was true, she'd wanted to have this moment with him for so long her mind was almost exploding. Barnes leans you against the edge of the couch as if he wants to support you there to continue where you left off. You reach for the hem of his shirt, ripping it off his body immediately. He's definitely as ripped as you'd expect him to be. Gently, you begin to kiss his belly, from bottom to top. When you kiss near his neck, he holds your face; pulling you in for a kiss. A slow kiss, as your tongues find each other's rhythm. He only breaks the kiss when he realizes that you still have a lot of clothes on.

"I hope to make you have a pleasant memory of our time together," he kisses your neck as he removes the rest of his clothes and yours. When he lowers the strap of your bra, he places small kisses on your shoulder. While with one hand he opened the clasp of your bra, as it fell to the floor, he massaged your breast. His cold fingers made contact with the tip of her breast, pulling it lightly. Then he ended up grabbing the other breast while massaging the other. His warm tongue sucking your left breast while his cold fingers pinched your right breast. Between your moans and his grunts, you were being deliciously explored by Barnes.

"I want your cock, Bucky. Inside me, fucking me; I want to feel you," you say almost as if you were pleading. The smug smile Barnes gives you makes you almost regret what you said.

"Your wish is my command," Barnes says, stopping whatever he was doing and spreading your legs, positioning himself at the entrance to your pussy. "Tell me how much you need me, Y/N. Tell me what you want from me," Barnes whispers as he teases you by lightly thrusting his cock into your pussy. His fingers stimulating your entrance too, massaging your pussy that is already wet, by the feeling of almost having his dick there.

"I've wanted you since I laid eyes on you, I want to feel you deep inside me," you say almost as a mumble. Your fingers scratch Barnes's six-pack, making him let out a groan. His eyes light up the moment he looks at you and finally, he penetrates you. His cock is completely inside you almost as if it were throbbing with pure lust. You let out a loud sigh, grabbing his bare ass with your hands. You help him with the movements, while he thrusts into you. The feeling of grabbing his ass while he puts his dick in you, it's almost divine. Your moans increase with each thrust of his, as you feel an explosion of pleasure take over you. At this moment it doesn't matter that your ass is hurting a little, that your back is in a almost uncomfortable position. The pleasure of being fucked by James Barnes is far greater than any momentary discomfort.

"Hold on to me, princess. My body is yours to do with as you please," Bucky speaks and you grab his neck, scratching him as you feel your orgasm form as Barnes continues to thrust his cock into you. As if he notices that you are about to cum, he starts thrusting more slowly, as if he wants to prolong the moment. You hold him close to you, nibbling on his ear and then kissing him. Finally you both come, almost in sync. You melt in his arms, not feeling strong enough to pull away from him.

"How about we take a bath together and then we can go to bed?" Bucky says while you don't even have the strength to answer him.You just nod your head and let him carry you to the bathroom.

You wake up in bed, uncertain whether what happened on the sofa was reality or merely a figment of your desire. Yet, your body confirms that you and Barnes truly slept together. But the other side of the bed is empty—he left while you were still asleep. Perhaps it’s for the best; this way, you won’t foster false hopes. Maybe it will hurt less if you pretend it was just a dream. You rise, though standing proves a bit difficult, and upon seeing the time, you rush to open the bakery. After a refreshing shower, you slip into a loose dress, tie up your hair, and hurry out to open your bakery.

But something feels off—you sense that someone is following you. Perhaps it's paranoia, yet the feeling lingers. Just before grabbing the keys to open the bakery, you turn around. It turns out you weren’t paranoid after all. A strange man, wearing a cap and dark sunglasses, stands right behind you. He pulls a knife and thrusts it into your stomach. The force of the blow causes you to stagger slightly as you lock eyes with him.

"Tell Barnes he can’t hide forever. Tell him Alexander Pierce sends his regards," the man sneers, twisting the knife deeper. "Hail, Hydra!" he exclaims before yanking the blade out of you and running off.

It feels as though your world has stopped, your life flashing before your eyes. All the times you wanted something but let it slip away, all the moments you couldn’t be who you were meant to be. The mistakes made, the victories earned. Your eyes grow heavy as you clutch the wound, feeling your blood spilling from you. Then, through the haze, you see a figure rushing toward you, and you recognize him instantly. A weak smile forms on your lips.

"I knew you'd be my hero," you whisper, as the strong arm of the man holds you steady. "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you," is all you hear before you lose consciousness.

[frigidwife]

do you think louis chose/believed armand over claudia in the scene after armand threatens and chokes her? i was under the impression that louis reflexively disagreed with claudia because he didn't want to believe it, but the fact that he also reflexively lit armand's photo on fire makes me think his response to claudia ("he wouldn't do that"/"sit in your choice") was a denial of the real horror he was feeling, that he did believe her and just wished it wasn't true. i rewatched that scene and when he notices the picture is on fire, he waits a second before putting it out, which makes me think his commitment to armand following this scene wasn't out of genuine love, but a strategic choice made out of fear, the same way he martyred himself for lestat to turn claudia. i still see people talking about how much louis and armand did love each other, and i was briefly convinced when madeline called it out (though that scene also contains claudia thanking armand for not treating her like a child, so the legitimacy of the entire scene is thrown into question imo). but after rewatching the season, i don't think they were that devoted to each other. between the actors deliberately playing their flirtations super awkward, the fact that louis never commits until armand threatens claudia and his commitment itself following louis' pattern of chaining himself to his current lover/shark for claudia's survival (a pattern the show goes out of its way to emphasize with lestat's retelling of her turning), and the fact that armand apparently did choose the coven over louis...idk. maybe i'm biased and just sick of the idea that armand and louis' love is some torrid gothic romance when it seems clear that louis and armand's insistence that it was in dubai is deliberately at odds with what we saw, despite how hard they were trying to make it seem that way. even the way they gassed up their first meeting felt staged, and if we're supposed to understand that louis and armand's growing physical distance in dubai denotes emotional/romantic distance as louis' memories are restored, it seems in line to realize that the distance isn't what's new, nor is the performance of love; it's the realization that it is a performance. SORRY this got long, i feel like i'm going a little crazy because i feel the show is saying the exact opposite to much of the analysis on here. in a way i would love to be convinced towards a different perspective because then i could just relax

no i agree with you completely ur not insane and neither am i.... i havent watched that episode in a while but the way the events are sequenced it's not even ambiguous--the relationship with armand is strategic and it has been since the beginning. like i dont think louis's "he wouldn't do that" is even a denial of the kind of person armand is. Bc in the previous episode armand literally almost killed louis for the same secret he's just threatened claudia about. so why would he actually disbelieve her? (laying it out like this i'm realizing why the victim blaming interpretation of louis as ditzy is so prevalent lol.) his frustration reads to me like: i've already sacrificed my freedom and happiness so you can join the coven that you love so much, and now you're saying you don't like the coven? you can't tough it out and trust i have armand handled? the disbelief in "he wouldn't do that" is not that louis wants to believe armand is a better person; it's that louis wants to believe his control over armand is more complete, bc otherwise claudia is right and his sacrifices are doubly pointless. this is the same pattern we saw with louis and his siblings as a human--telling grace to worry about herself, telling lestat how they were four months from bankruptcy; he takes pains to keep them ignorant but then is frustrated they wont register his sacrifice; they see it as him pushing them away (literal knife to paul's throat). louis starting to burn the photograph is him giving up--claudia is ungrateful; this task is impossible. but then the dream lestat which is ofc just louis calls claudia "our daughter" and that's when louis stops burning the photograph of armand. at the reminder that no matter how he tries to accept her as grown and autonomous, she's his child first. and then you can see him double down and regroup--get rid of ghost lestat indulgence to commit fully to companionship with as much control as he can leverage

[upsidedownmvnson]

reader is insecure about big boobs | eddie munson

warnings: reader is insecure about big boobies :(

requested by anon <3

"What's left on the list, my love?"

Eddie Munson was a powerhouse of a boyfriend, always. Not in sheer strength, but just in general boyfriendiness. Today you guys were out and about in town, just running errands for you. So far today you'd gotten your haircut, went to the dentist, did the groceries for your house, dropped something off to your friend, and now you guys were at the mall, eating french fries and taking a little break.

Not once did Eddie get annoyed, bored, or impatient. He just followed along, performing finger drum songs in various waiting rooms while you were busy. In fact, you'd told him it would be boring but he insisted that he be your private chariot for the day.

You unfold the weak paper. It's been folded and unfolded this sheet so many times that it was just begging to fall apart. The blue pen was fading as if you hadn't written this last night.

You sigh, "just bra shopping."

"Best for last," Eddie grinned, rubbing his hands together.

Obviously, he'd never been bra shopping before. You had. You would spend the next hour trying on bras that don't fit and will end up paying forty bucks for a bra you don't even like, and barely fit into, like one weight flux and it would start gathering dust in your drawer.

But what are you supposed to do? They never have your size, and when they do they're neon pink, or have the same effect as a sports bra, and you already wore a sports bra enough. You wanted something sexy, something to push up the girls and say, "hey look at me! I probably don't have stretch marks from being pulled down to her belly button all the time!"

But you do...

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes before you could even say anything else. Bra shopping is the worst and you'd already had a long day.

"Hey, hey," Eddie said softly, recognizing the overwhelmed look in your eye. He stood up and shimmied around so he could sit beside you in the booth. "What happened? What's wrong, Petal?"

"Maybe we should just call it," you said, wiping at a tear that managed to sneak out. "And I can do this tomorrow."

"Wouldn't you like to just get it out of the way? I can help you real quick and then I can take you home, we can set up a movie night and just relax the rest of the day? How's that sound?"

It sounded really good. And the way he spoke softly and kindly reassured you that he's got your back, and he probably wouldn't even laugh at you if you told him the truth, which you were considering. Maybe he could even help?

"What if I can't find anything?"

"Then I'll take you somewhere else."

"What is they laugh at me?"

"Then I'll burn the store down."

You laughed, and he smiled, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his side. He kissed the top of your head a few times before resting his chin on your head.

"C'mon Petal, tell me what's bothering you."

"Eddie, have you ever been bra shopping? I have watermelons strapped to my chest, nothing fits! And when it does it gives me uniboob. And uniboob even costs like a thousand dollars - and even then, I'm- I'm..." you sniffle, trying not to cry in the middle of the food court.

"Baby..." he cooed, holding you tightly. He didn't care if people saw the pda, he would comfort you when and where you needed it. You couldn't see his face, but where you imagined him cringing, he was just smiling sadly. He hated that you felt like this. "I wish you saw what I saw."

"I wish you felt what I felt," you said. "They're literally weighing me down."

"I have a solution."

"That's not you just holding them up all day?"

"I do not have a solution."

"It's just frustrating."

"I know baby," he said, "Can I just... I don't want to make it worse but baby, you are so gorgeous. Top to bottom, just perfection. I know you might hate them, but personally..." Eddie sighed, you were still smushed into his chest, but pulled away to see his face. He pushed his own chin into his neck to look down at you, but somehow still looked ridiculously beautiful. He grinned. "Personally I like when they spill through my fingers."

"Eddie!"

"What!? It's so true, there's so much to grab. To kiss. Ugh, just suffocate me with them so I can die happy."

You giggled, "Okay you win for now. Let's go do this - but if I need to talk to an employee I'm making you do it."

"Deal."

As you gathered your stuff, Eddie watched you. Honestly shocked that someone as beautiful as you even found time to bother with insecurities. He would do literally anything to make you see yourself the way that he sees you.

He takes your bags, holding the girly shopping bags with no hesitation or problem.

And he says, "but I can help you hold them up later, right?"

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 16. wine-stained lips — ✦ (wc: 0.9k)

Dandelion wine is a delicacy in the heart of Mondstadt, renowned as not only the best-seller of the region’s finest Dawn Winery but also as Venti’s favorite wine. The golden-colored drink has a flavor similar to mead, adorned with a subtle undertone of honeyed sweetness. While you’ve had the pleasure of sharing a glass or two with friends, you’ve never downed a full bottle.

Though that notion certainly changed today.

It’s a scene you're familiar with: dimmed lights, faint music, you and Scaramouche on the couch, sipping on glass after glass of wine. You were talking to him about... something. Was it the wine or the concert? It was something stupid, you know that much, because Scaramouche simply sneered at your comment and drank more of his wine.

The first night Scaramouche graced Inazuma with his presence after years away was spent here in this very living room. You and your friends had downed glass after glass, catching up after an eventful dinner.

Now, nine months have passed since he came back. It’s just you and him here. All alone.

Not that it’s a bad thing, at least in your book. The conversation isn’t boring, being able to flow much more smoothly with the help of the wine. And the skinship isn’t half-bad either. His hand has been resting on your knee for a bit, and your side has been pressed close to his for however long the two of you have been seated on this sofa.

It’s just the two of you here. There isn’t a need to keep up appearances.

"So, Scaramouche," you make your hand into a fist like you're holding a microphone. "How does it feel to be dating the Zenith?" 

"No comment."

You pout, "The crowd's not gonna like that; you're not giving them anything to latch on to." 

"Then I say that it's none of their business."

After a moment, you shrug, "Better than nothing I guess."

The two of you were bound to be hounded by reporters eventually, so you've taken to shooting him question after question in the guise of a journalist looking for some juicy gossip. 

His answers could use some work, you could say that much. 

"Our sources say you were at Windborne's concert tonight. What can you say about their music?" you hold out your invisible mic.

"It was alright."

You're getting annoyed at his clipped responses. "Don't lie, you enjoyed their concert," you swirl your glass before taking a sip. "I saw you smiling when I was on stage." 

"Again, I was only there because of you," he retorts. "You perform really well when you're in front of a crowd. Like you belong there." 

You likely would have blushed even more if the wine hadn't run its course, "Stop trying to butter me up. You're already dating me."

“We’re not even dating. And I’m only telling the truth — you were born for the stage,” he murmurs the next part so softly that you almost miss it. ”I like seeing you perform.”

You choose not to acknowledge the fact that you heard that last sentence, opting instead to drain the remnants of your glass. Its nectarine sweetness gives you comfort, a fleeting refuge from the tension in the air. With your glass now empty, you slowly swiveled to face Scaramouche, your heart racing, and your senses on high alert.

He was already looking right at you, seemingly closer than he was just a moment ago. HIs usually neat hair was now disheveled, a subtle blush graced his cheeks, and gods were his eyes always this pretty?

You lean closer to him, purely to take a closer look at his pretty face and most definitely not for any other reasons. The red eyeliner he usually wears is smudged at the wing, his hand that was once on your knee is now resting on your arm. You're still holding your empty wine glass, spinning it in your fingers while Scaramouche inches impossibly closer. Is the warmth spreading across your body coming from where he's touching you or have you had just one glass too many?

Honesty, you can't bring yourself to care with the way he looks at you. Maybe that's the real source of the heat.

“It’s just you and me here,” you drag your fingertips across his collarbone, a teasing trail that lingers on his shoulder. “No need to get so close.”

“Give it a rest,” he mumbles, voice slurring slightly. “Like you said, it’s just us. So shut up.”

“Make me.”

He leans in closer, ever closer, and presses his wine-stained lips onto yours. Time still as your hand, which was once wrapped around your wine glass, lets it slip from your fingers. You hear a soft thud as it finds its place on your carpet, but your attention is somewhere else entirely.

His hands, soft and warm, find their way to your waist and pull you closer. The taste of wine and the scent of his cologne threaten to intoxicate you further.

You tilt your head, deepening the kiss. A soft, breathless sigh escapes you, and you feel one of his hands moving to the small of your back, sending shivers down your spine. You grip his shoulder tighter in an attempt to anchor yourself while the rapid beating of your own heart echoes in your ears.

Scaramouche breaks away from the kiss for a moment to catch his breath. And you see nothing but want and need and desire in his eyes. He kisses you over and over again, each one more desperate than the last.

It’s just the two of you here — you let the world fall away as you start to run your fingers through his hair, a soft groan escaping him as you do this. Nothing else could matter in this moment.

And you’d kiss him all night if he’d let you.

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: nothing more than a mistake made in the heat of the moment. that's all it is, and that's how it should be. but perhaps there's more than meets the eye

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